Anxiety
by wiseyetharmless
Summary: I could feel a burning in my chest, a tingle in my fingertips and an ache in my neck. I knew what it all equated to. I had minutes, maybe seconds to get somewhere safe before it happened. This is a story about two boys who must learn to trust one another as they combat peer pressure, hate, and the inevitability of goodbye. (Kevedd) (one-shot turned into multi-chapter)
1. Chapter 1

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_Please don't look at me. Please, please don't look at me._

I kept my head low as I hurried through the crowd of chattering teenagers. They were packed farcically tight in the small, outdated cafeteria, bodies mingling and straying in every which way. It was messy, it was unorganized, and it was actually pretty gross, but it was perfect cover. Given my small frame, I could easily slip between people and make my through a throng of people without being seen. To do so required me to involuntarily brush up against a lot of the individuals in the crowd, but it was worth it. I could disappear in a moment's notice and no one would even know I had disappeared.

Which is exactly why I was twisting and turning through the crowd at such a quick pace. I had to get away, and quickly. I could feel a burning in my chest, a tingle in my fingertips and an ache in my neck. I knew what it all equated to. I had minutes, maybe seconds to get somewhere safe before it happened. It was something I grown used to, but something I had only learned to predict a month ago. In addition, sometimes the symptoms were hard to notice, or only happened seconds before all chaos broke loose.

This particular instance, it seemed, was more favorable. I had given enough time to excuse myself from the table and run out of the cafeteria, and I was on my way to the restroom, praying that it would be empty. I wasn't sure I had time to find an empty classroom. I wasn't about to push my luck unless I absolutely had to.

I tried to keep from looking distressed, but I found it becoming harder and harder to keep calm. My breath was hitching and my stomach was dropping with a cruel, unpredictable. I practically barreled into the bathroom door, not even minding the noise or the possible germs on the polished wood. I stumbled inside the tiled room, locking myself in the first available cubicle. I slid against the wall and clutched at my hat, pulling it over my eyes. I hadn't even checked to see if the place was empty- it was too late.

Tears rolled down my cheek as I gasped, my whole body trembling. I could hear a _whoosh _in my ears, like the sound of my blood pumping furiously through my veins. I tried not imagine the blood, because it would only make it worse. I curled in on myself, putting my forhead onto my knees and my hands on my head, like I was protecting myself from an earthquake. My head was spinning, and the earth _did seem _to shake, but I knew better than to believe it was actually an tectonic plate disturbance. No, this was a disturbance of the mind. I was shaking with horror though there was no threat, I was breathing heavily though I hadn't run very far, I was crying though there was nothing to be upset about.

I was having a full on panic attack.

I moved my arms to cross over my stomach, my hands clenching desperately at my shirt sleeves, most definitely wrinkling the fabric. I bit my lower lip, trying to keep from whimpering as my entire chest filled with horrible dread that I could not explain. I tried to think of logical things- algorithms, the theory of evolution, botany, anything, but even small additions problems were beyond me. My brain was muddled, stuck on fight-or-flight mode, unable to analyze anything.

Suddenly, I felt a pounding against my back, and a faint noise. It had to be very loud for me to hear it in this state- and I knew it. It only served to scare me further, forcing me to shove my head between my knees and wrap my arms around myself, whimpering pitifully.

_No, no, no, no, leave me alone please please no no leave go away please no I don't I can't I'm not I can't I CAN'T I CAN'T-_

"D! Can you hear me? Dee!"

The voice persisted, it's familiar timber causing me to jump. I knew the voice...but form where? My heart was beating so loud, my face covered in sweat and tears, but I fought the panic that clouded my memory.

"Hey! Dee!"

_Kevin?_

The memories hit me like a ton of bricks. I remembered the tall, athletic boy that was Kevin Barr. I remembered his temper, his insults, his tired looks, his teasing, his calm face, his laughter, his famous red cap...

I could feel my body start to relax, knowing it would only be a matter of time before I was back to normal. After that, however...

"C'mon, man! Say something!"

I raised my head, blinking. "I-I...Kevin?" Edd heard a relieved sigh.

"Yeah. Yeah, it's Kevin. Are you okay?"

I didn't answer. While I was emotionally exhausted now, soon I would be horrified that Kevin had found me like this.

"I'm fine," I breathed, trying to sound as sure as I could. It didn't work well, as my voice cracked.

"No you're not. Let me in."

_Uh oh. _The last thing I needed was for someone to actually _see _me like this, with tears running down my face.

"No."

Another sigh.

"D...Edd...please. I gotta know if you're okay. You're freakin' me out."

I chose not to reply, hoping he would take the hint and leave me in peace.

"If you don't open this door I'll go find a teacher to make you. Better yet, I'll just bust down the thing myself," he threatened.

He wasn't getting the hint. I sloppily pulled myself off the ground, my head spinning with the effort. I unlocked the door and let it swing open, keeping my eyes on the floor. I heard Kevin give a slight gasp, muttering a curse word under his breath.

"What happened?" he asked hesitantly.

"Nothing," I said as non-nonchalantly as I could muster. He scoffed, taking my face in his hands and lifting my chin to make me look at him.

"Bull-crap," he claimed. I shrugged.

"Fine. Be that way," he said. He let go of my face long enough to wrap his arms around my waist and hoisting me up over his shoulder. I know normally I would have protested, but I was still in the process of calming down, so my body went limp in his arms. He carried me through the empty hallways and out one of the side doors, heading straight to the football field. It was a grey afternoon, and it smelled wet, but there was no sign of rain just yet. I bounced on Kevin's shoulder and realized he was carrying me up the bleachers. Part of me wondered if I was difficult to carry. Most of me didn't care. He would put me down if he needed.

When we reached the top of the bleachers, Kevin slid my body off of his and sat me down on the cool bench and then sat beside me, leaning forward and to the side to face me properly.

"So spill."

I could only shrug. What was I supposed to say? My body was really starting to relax now, my eyes only half open and my posture less than exemplary. Instead of coming up with an explanation or avoiding the question like I normally would, I just stared at Kevin. I noticed his concerned and frustrated expression, which struck something inside of me that warned me to be cautious around him. Years of torment and borderline bullying argued the validity of my instinct to keep far far away from Kevin Barr. In my fatigue drunken state, however, I ignored these subtle reminders and instead chose to tell the truth.

"I have a disorder. I get panic attacks," I stated casually, looking into Kevin's dark eyes. They swam with confusion and something else...worry?

Strange.

The ginger ran a hand through his hair, looking at me skeptically. "So you just...freak out? Why?"

I shrugged. "There are a few theories. I cannot control them, and only recently could I feel the oncoming presence of one."

"Is that why you practically sprinted out of the lunch room?"

I quirked an eyebrow. "You followed me?"

Kevin's face flushed. "N-no, I mean, yeah, I guess. I just- I saw you running out like someone was chasing you and I wanted to know what was going on. You ran in the bathroom and just started freaking out, and I thought you were like, _dying, _or something. I tried to talk to you, but you didn't freaking respond so I only got more freaked out. I was seriously yelling at you for like, five minutes."

I blinked. _That long? _I yawned. I knew what was happening. A panic attack took everything out of me, emotionally and physically, and afterwards, I usually blacked out or fell asleep for a couple hours until my body recovered. Even now, I fought to keep my eyes open. I shivered, my sleepiness making me cold.

"What? What are you doing?"

"I'm so..._tired." _I ground out, wrapping my arms around myself. I tried to stay awake, to keep talking with Kevin, but my body was fighting harder. I saw surprised when something fell on my head, before strong hands maneuvered the soft thing on my body properly, pulling my hands through sleeves much too big, popping my head through the top. I was in Kevin's baseball hoodie, and I smiled. It was incredibly soft, warm and it smelled of the jock's cologne. I attempted to thank the redhead for the jacket, but his dead voice stopped me.

"Here. Just don't tell anyone," he said softly, pulling my head down onto his lap. I responded, pulling my feet up onto the bench, pulling my knees up to my stomach, and my fists up to my chest. I felt his warm hands touch me, one landing on my shoulder and the other on my head, pulling the black hair that had fallen out of my beanie behind my ear. It was comforting. I felt safe there, overwhelmed with the need to trust the boy whose lap I was currently using as a pillow. There was no thought as to where I needed to be, what I was doing, or whether or not the bench beneath me was sanitary.

There was nothing but the sound of our breathing, calm and deep.

"Thank you," I breathed, my voice almost non-existent.

Then I fell fast asleep.

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**Writing is therapeutic.**

** I hope you enjoyed my little one-shot. If there are any one-shots, drabbles or prompts you want me to try out, leave it an a review. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2- Prologue

Many people thought they knew Eddward Marion. If asked, they would tell you that Eddward was a thin, gangly creature who stuttered a lot. Others would say that he was a brilliant person, a genius even. They would say he was always nervous, probably due to his incredible shyness. Many would swear he was a very kind boy, though his social awkwardness kept him from having a large amount of friends. A few would whisper of scientist parents, who had raised the boy to enter the medical field despite his protests.

You might even hear rumors of what lay underneath the beanie he wore everyday- nothing, because he had cancer and had lost all of his hair, a very large scar, most likely from an injury that had made him both smart and socially inept, or curly hair, because he was far too embarrassed to show it. Whatever the reason, many people noticed and was curious about what the boy was hiding under his cap.

And, if you should ask those who knew him best, they would say there was more to him than met the eye.

Those who were graced with his presence often barely noticed him. He was always in the back corner, his eyes on the notes he was taking and his mouth shut. He was rarely called on, and never worked in groups if he didn't have to. Most assumed the boy just didn't care for company, and left it at that. They assumed he was stuck up. They assumed he was too shy. They assumed he was already done with the project.

If he were to present in front of a class, he would stand very straight, moving very quickly through the material he had, looking uncomfortable but determined. Many thought he became a bit different during such times, though the attributed his change of attitude to his perfectionism. Some thought he faked his confidence for a good grade. Others? Well, they thought he was just a fake all around.

Few knew of his past in junior high. It was basic knowledge that he had been picked on, but to what extent most didn't understand. They were not horrible bullies, but they were effective. Some believed his shy nature was a result of being verbally harassed during those years. Others believed it was because of his timid personality that he had been made fun of.

Regardless, those who had seen it themselves knew it didn't matter either way.

There were, surprisingly, quite a few people that thought they knew him.

They thought he was a pretty open book.

A kind, awkward nerd that was treated ill for a time.

A thin boy who knew too much for his age.

A lonely kid who was too shy to make many friends.

A strange, socially immature type of person.

A quiet, smart being who just didn't have many people to talk to.

A nerd.

A geek.

A wimp.

A genius.

A loner.

A_ dork._

Oh yes, many claimed that they knew who he was. They, for some strange reason, seemed to think that because he acted a certain way in public, they had every right to label him and call that 'getting to know him'. They thought that being near him, and seeing just how he handled a few different situations made him easy to read. Made him something they could understand, as surely he was socially awkward he couldn't keep anything to himself anyway. He was just that, someone the students loved to label for their own convenience, as it somehow made them a better person for doing so. They thought they were doing the world a favor by knowing his name, somehow righting whatever had wronged him by simply taking the time to memorize the symbols that made up the beginning of his rhetorical identity.

His name was Eddward Marion.

And this is his story.


	3. Chapter 3- Library

**Hi there! Welcome to 'Anxiety'. This is a KevEdd story, and a SEQUEL/PREQUEL to my story Hiding Behind Enemy Lines. You don't have to read HBEL to read this one, though I plan to reference the characters in the future, so watch out for that. **

**Thanks for reading!**

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Double D's point of view (POV)

I awoke to the sound of birds, sunlight peeking through my thin curtains and casting long rays of light across my bed and floor. I had purposefully left my window open 26.3% of the way, which allowed the cool air in and the birds to wake me. They usually started chirping at about 6:22 am this time of year, which usually aroused me right before 6:30 (6:28 if I was sleeping lightly).

I was then able to wake myself, get ready and head out the door by 7:44, and I planned to arrive at school anywhere from 7:56 -8:00, depending on whether I had to stop at the three crosswalks or not. I always moved with a brisk pace, though I did his best not to cause myself physical distress by being out of breath by the time I got to my locker.

I always turned the locker knob four times to the right, then once to the left, then six times to the right again before putting in the combination. I pulled the door open all the way, taking the homework I had finished away and pulling out my textbooks, a worn journal, and a sketch book. Closing my locker and making sure the dial read 0, I swiftly headed to the library, arriving there precisely at 8:05, as expected.

I didn't have a first period- I didn't need one. Instead I used the time to read, study and draw. It was almost ritual to me that I get the time in to relax and prepare myself for the events of the day. It was a very beloved practice, though sometimes I wished I could use the time to go out for a walk or meditate. But, the call for knowledge and ample preparation in my classes trumped any lengthy activity to remedy my anxieties, and I came to the library every day.

I pulled out a lengthy novel I had borrowed from the psychology teacher titled _Mind Maps. _While my academic interests tended towards the botany and physics, the human mind had recently started to captivate me. The brain had always seemed an interesting albeit complicated matter, and something that had always made me wonder how it all seemed to work. Psychology, physiology and philosophy were all, in my mind, a part of that elaborate systems, and while I had often found it curious, I had never bothered to look into it much.

That changed when I was admitted to a psychiatrist.

I knew it was coming. Perhaps that, in and of itself, was what caused my hesitation in studying the mind. I had always thought of myself a sensible, practical individual, so it was hard to accept that there was something wrong with me. With my mind, more accurately. I knew that it didn't make sense to have brief moments of overwhelming dread and horror. I was well aware that those moments that made me completely and totally inconsolable and paralyzed were not supposed to happen. It caused me a lot of distress, and I foolishly assumed that if I ignored them, they would pass. They didn't.

In fact, they only escalated. Instead of feeling my stomach drop a bit and feeling a little light headed, they became full on attacks, to the point where I would black out. I now believe that trying to shut them out and pretend they didn't exist made them worse in the long run.

However, that was only half the story. True, I did find my panic attacks abnormal, and I originally went to see a doctor for those. I was, until that point, unaware that I was also suffering from something just as dangerous, and far less common.

I was diagnosed with Panic disorder _and_ Obsessive Compulsion disorder.

I did not know that it was peculiar to wash one's hands for a set amount of time (36 seconds under the water, 17 seconds drying), nor did I understand that most people do not feel the need to memorize license plates, turn the lights on four times before entering a room, or count _everything. _In fact, I thought it was quite regular, though I assumed everyone had their own methods for what they did. No, the boy whose locker was next to mine did not set his dial to zero every day, but I thought perhaps he tapped the door shut twice, as he often seemed to do.

This was no the case. In fact, OCD is a rather rare mental disorder, though there are millions of people who show signs of it. Some must crack their knuckles, shift one foot from another, or listen to a full song before changing the station. In my case, it can often be severe, and I cannot ignore such compulsions. At least, not yet. I am learning, slowly, to control them.

I was lucky. Many people have awkward or unsettling compulsions, ones that might cause distress or embarrassment. That had not been the case for me. I may have to measure how many steps it takes from my bed to my bathroom every day, but that has never inhibited my life much. It is the anxiety attacks that cause the most trouble, to the point that it completely takes over my mind and any compulsion or obsessions I might have become completely mute. It is something I am determined to understand, and then to rid myself of.

Which is why I had been recently cramming to understand the extent of my mental disabilities, and how to combat them the best I know how. Knowledge is power, after all.

I am interrupted in my reading when I hear someone clear their throat loudly, trying to get my attention. I rub both of my thumbs against the page, memorizing the number I am currently reading before setting down my book, adjusting my posture and looking up into the dark eyes of Kevin Barr. I feel a slight blush color my face as I remember the events of last Friday, when the redhead had so graciously helped me through my panic attack.

"Salutations Kevin," I said softly, doing my best not to appear sheepish, a cautious smile on my face.

"Hey. How ya' doin'?"

"I'm doing well, thank you. How are you?"

Kevin looks about the room for a moment before sitting down across from me, setting his backpack down with a _thump. _

"I'm okay. So, hey, can I ask you something?"

I had expected this, and I nodded, moving my reading material aside so that I could give him my full attention. "Of course. How can I be of assistance?"

"What happened last week? Like, I know you had a breakdown or whatever, but why? Are you sick or something?"

I took a moment to gather my thoughts. I knew what I needed to say, but I had never actually shared it aloud, and I wasn't sure how to phrase the answer in a way that he would understand.

"It isn't a _sickness, _necessarily, though it is similar. It is a mental disorder, to be precise. For whatever reason, I will randomly experience extreme panic for a brief period of time, as you witnessed. After which time they will end, and I will often sleep or pass out until such time that my body recovers."

"They just...happen? Why? Is it 'cuz you're scared or something?"

"No, it is not a phobia. They don't occur as a response to anything, as far as I can tell. They are simply random, and have no implication. Which is to say that I cannot predict nor control them. I just have to find somewhere safe to wait them out. Obviously I don't want to alarm anyone, as I seemed to do last week, and I apologize for that."

The ginger just shrugged. "Not your fault, right? So, like, you could just start freaking out right now? Just..bam, and you're in full freak-out mode?"

I shrugged at the crude description, trying not to imagine my body convulsing in shudders on the carpet of the room, in full sight of the jock and the librarian.

"Technically speaking, yes, that's possible. It's unlikely, however, as I am usually given a moment or two of warning before I...'freak out'."

"Which is why you ran out like that on Friday, huh?"

"Precisely."

I really wasn't sure why I was giving out so much information to Kevin, especially about something to sensitive as my mental issues. I did want to clear things up for him, and I felt a certain sense of obligation after his kindness before, but part of me warned that I should stay on guard. I sensed no ill-intent on his part, and I wasn't even all that sure how or why he would use this information against me.

Still.

"Woah," he said, sitting back and slouching slightly in his seat. I noticed that his jacket rid up a bit, exposing a bit of his skin above his jeans. I quickly averted my eyes, embarrassed that I had seen anything. I kept my eyes on the table directly in front of me, not sure what to say.

"What if you had an attack while driving or something? Isn't that dangerous?"

I'd had similar thoughts, of course. I still hadn't come up with a solution, so I simply shrugged, peeking back up to the boy's curious facial expression.

"I will have to cross that bridge when I get there, I suppose," I said, knowing that it was a lame answer.

"Didja get hit on the head or something? Or are you so smart that your head ran out of room for your common brain's common sense?"

I scowled, my cheeks seemingly on fire as I opened my mouth to retort such an argument, angry. "Of course not, and I simply cannot believe-"

I was interrupted by Kevin's snickers, and when I looked at him, he burst into laughter, his hands held up in defense as his shoulder shook.

"I'm kidding! I'm kidding, I swear. You shoulda' seen your face, man..."

My anger drained and I relaxed, seeing the carefree grin on the boy's face. The smile soon mirrored my own face, and I put up a hand to cover the unsightly gap in my teeth as I did.

"My apologies. I suppose I shouldn't have taken you seriously," I said to him, and he threw up his hands nonchalantly.

"Not a problem, man. I woulda' done the same thing," he admitted, giving me what I knew was a legendary smirk.

It was then that I realized how odd the conversation was. Kevin was, for all intents and purposes, a pretty popular boy. He was well liked, to say the very least. He was star of the football team, and played well in the baseball team and track team. He was also fairly known as being the class clown, as his humor was both loud and accepted well by the teachers, who all seemed to like him for his lightheartedness and wit. Some say he was a bit behind in academics, and was horribly unorganized, but I could only vouch for that when we were children.

Back then, Kevin was a bit more...rough around the edges. He was funny, but he was also scheming, and more so than one could expect of someone his age. He was regularly picking on those that opposed him and those that he found easy to victimize. I had been one such child, at least for a while. He and his friends would call me rude names, even going as far as to knock books out of my hand or shove me against walls and lockers. When we entered junior high the teasing only continued, though Kevin completely detached himself from that group of friends. He seemed to mature, though his companions did not.

They found other interests by high school, including sports and flirting with girls, which relieved me very much. I was mostly left alone now, though I had caught a few slurs and even a rumor or two throughout the year. They hurt, of course, but they weren't nearly as bad as the bullying had been before, so I didn't mind so much.

With such a history, it seemed odd to me that Kevin would not only come to my aid, but continue to speak with me. He had no reason to, and in all reality, if anyone were to find out about our strange sort of friendship, Kevin would likely lose a bit of popularity. I wasn't sure if he minded or not, but I didn't want to risk it just in case.

But I really did appreciate the kindness.

"Dee?"

I snapped out of my thoughts, blinking. Kevin gave me a concerned face, one hand braced on the table, one raised and near my face as he snapped his fingers.

"Sorry," I said, adjusting my hat and taking a breath.

"Don't scare me like that, dude! I thought you were gonna have a freak out again."

I raised an eyebrow. It seemed as Kevin was genuinely concerned for my well being, something I had not been expecting.

"No, no, I am quite alright. No need to worry," I said, smiling. He relaxed a bit, nodding.

"Well good. How-uh, how often do you get...yknow, like _that_?"

"My panic attacks?" I asked, confused. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets, nodding.

"Actually, they have become fairly regular. Right now, I'd say once or twice a week."

They jock's eyebrows went up. "And you can't stop 'em?"

"No," I said sadly, "I cannot."

"What if you have one in class or somethin'?"

"I...I don't know," I said honestly. "I would probably have to leave the classroom."

"That sucks, dude. I just... I know you don't want people to know, right? Like, it's embarrassing."

"You are correct."

It was all I could say. I didn't want to admit it was something I was ashamed of, because that meant it could be used against me. At the same time, I couldn't find it in me to lie to him. This reality was a hard one, I'll admit, but it was mine and I had every intention to use it to the best of my abilities.

That, and I didn't want to seem afraid. Not now.

"You, uh...you gonna tell anybody else?" he asked sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I hadn't planned to," I admitted slowly, wondering what on earth he was trying to imply. I sat a little straighter. _What if he's already told his friends about Friday? What if someone saw us?_

"Well, I just," he stuttered, looking up at me cautiously. Upon seeing my suspicious face he quieted, pressing his lips together. "Nevermind."

Before I could say anything in return he stood up, grabbing his back and not looking at me. A quiet "I'll see ya' around, Dee," was uttered before the popular boy left, his movements quick. As soon as he stepped out the door, I blinked, thinking.

_I wonder if I upset him, _I thought. _Or, perhaps, the subject was a bit too uncomfortable for him. He could have remembered something, or perhaps, he was going to be late for class._

I decided to assume the last was true and clicked my tongue four times before opening my book again, rubbing my thumbs on the pages once again before immersing myself back in the pages.

Little did I know that a few paces from the library's entrance stood a confused, curious ginger who ran a hand through his short hair. He battled with himself a moment, seemingly torn as to what his future actions should before he growled, shook his head, and left.

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**Lemme know what you think!**

**-M**


	4. Chapter 4- Sunshine

**TO THE GUEST WHO REVIEWED LAST CHAPTER: First off, hi! Thanks for your interest and support in my work, because it means a lot to me! You said you connected well with Dee in this story, as well as Rev!Edd in my story 'Hiding Behind Enemy Lines'. While I have been aiming to help people connect with the characters as they get through their struggles, you said you were afraid that you might have OCD after reading Dee's description last chapter. Let me clear something up.**** ALL people have symptoms of mental disorders to some extent.**** Quite a few of Dee's quirks come from my own experience, actually. Having a short lived or less serious case of quirks is called OC**_**B, **_**or Obsessive Compulsive **_**Behavior, **_**which is more common than OCD. You may very well have OCB, and there is nothing wrong with that. You also may have OCD, but it's incredibly unlikely.**** However, if you are concerned about your mental state or if the quirks you have make your life uncomfortable or get in the way of day-to-day activities, then please, **_**please**_** go see someone. ****Even if you just made an account and talked to me or someone else, it would be better than keeping it to yourself, especially if you really think you might have OCD or OCB. Okay? *hugs and kisses***

**ALSO, A NOTE: IF YOU FIND PANIC ATTACKS OR OCD BEHAVIOR TRIGGERING IN ANY WAY, PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION. **

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I looked up into the bathroom mirror, quickly washing and drying my hands without breaking eye contact with my reflection. Once my hands were sufficiently clean I reached up, tugging my hat off for a moment, running a hand through the dark hair before righting my hat back on, making sure the stripes were level, right above my ears. I would never take off my hat unless it seemed crooked. If anyone were to see my kinky tresses I can very easily assume they would make fun of me for it. And as much as I wanted to cut it all off, just imagining all the hair getting absolutely e_verywhere _made me shudder. No, a haircut would undoubtedly be messy, messy, messy.

Plus, the hat had become a bit comforting. It was like a security blanket...for my head.

I shook myself from my daydreaming, exiting the bathroom quickly and heading back to my locker. School had gotten out about fifteen minutes ago, and I usually waited this long to avoid all the crowds. It was easier to breathe when there weren't hundreds of students brushing up against your sides, trust me. I still wasn't sure what caused my panic attacks, if anything, but I figured avoiding large amounts of people would help. If not, it would at least keep me from having a surprise panic attack in the middle of a hallway with nowhere to run and dozens of spectators. I'm not exactly sure what the people of Peach Creek High would do if they were find me writhing on the floor.

I'd rather not know, thank you.

I pulled my books out, quickly organizing things for the next day (A day supplies on the top, B supplies on the bottom and the correct pencil case right in front of the bottom folders) and grabbing what I needed. I slammed the locker shut, righting the dial to zero and turning promptly on my heel, briskly walking to the exit. The air was cool and fresh, and I took a moment to roll my sweater and button-up sleeves up a couple of times, so they sat right underneath my elbows. While I didn't believe in tanning or getting excessive amounts of sun exposure, I absolutely adored the feeling of the sun's heat on my skin. It was something I had always loved, though if I told anyone they would likely not believe me. I was so adamant about putting on sun screen that I had very pale skin, something that many attributed to a lack of outdoor activity.

A distant voice caught my attention, then, a laugh. I looked over to see a couple boys not twenty feet from me, one of them snickering in my direction. I didn't catch what he said, but I automatically guessed it was a derogatory term aimed in my direction. The boy next to him looked uncomfortable, rubbing his neck with a hand and not looking at me. After a moment of awkward silence, Kevin Barr peeked up at me, giving me an apologetic face. I looked away and heard him change the subject with the boy next to him, reminding him of something important to which the boy yelled a curse word before walking off, thanking Kevin for the reminder. I then heard quick footsteps near me as Kevin caught up to me.

"Dee, hey, wait," he said quietly. I slowed as he neared me, rubbing my thumbs on the strap of my messenger bag. When he caught up to me Kevin smiled again, shrugging.

"Sorry about Jason back there. I don't know what his deal is," he said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets as he spoke. I was still confused as to why he was speaking to me, especially in public, but I tried to act like it didn't surprise me.

"That's quite alright. I didn't even hear what he said, truthfully."

"Oh, he just- yknow what? It doesn't matter. He's an idiot."

"You would know," I said flippantly, not looking at him.

Kevin reared on me, giving me a shocked face, his dark eyes dancing with anger. "Scuse me?"

I realized how my comment could be taken and I put my hands up, taking a step back. "Oh dear, that's not what I meant! I was trying to say that you are his friend and as such would know better than I if he is as unintelligent as you claim he is. I am so sorry, I should have been more clear!" I rambled, desperately trying to repair any damage I may have caused.

The boy's shoulders fell as he relaxed, his defensive stance melting away as he returned to his more slouched position. "I getcha. Yeah, no, most of the kids here are...dumb. I don't know why they're jerks to you- maybe cuz' you don't fight back, yknow?"

I nodded. I too had often wondered what made me so appealing to the brash bullies. Honestly, I sometimes guessed it was because I excelled academically and spoke differently. It not only made someone to envy, but any adoration was replaced with anger because of the way I thought and spoke, which to them, might seem arrogant. Of course, it was just a theory at this point, as I knew I was in so position to _ask _the students why they didn't like me.

"Perhaps."

"Anyway," Kevin said, obviously trying to move off such a sensitive topic, "you headed home?"

"I am."

"Cool. Is it okay if I walk with ya? We're headed the same way and everything."

I smiled a bit, flattered. "Why of course. I would very much enjoy your company."

"Rad."

We walked side by side, with just enough room that we didn't bump shoulders as we walked. He asked me about my plans for summer, as it was less than a month away.

"Actually," I admitted, caught off guard by the question, "I was hoping to get a job. College is so close, after all."

"What kind of job?"

"I don't know- maybe the book store or the library?"

"Yeah? Those seem like your type of places. What with your love of reading, and all."

"Indeed. What about you? How do you plan to spend your summer?"

"Uh, well, yknow. I mow lawns for the neighborhood, so I'll be doing that. And a few sport camps, actually. They have recruiters there...I'm hoping I can get picked up by some school around here to help pay for college," he shrugged, a grin slowly working its way onto his face. "Who knows? I might party here and there. We'll see."

I nodded. While I knew Kevin was a very talented athlete, I wondered if it was enough to catch the attention of those who distributed the scholarships. I knew a little about football and I knew the basics of baseball and track, but I really didn't know how well one had to be to get 'picked'.

"What would you like to study in college?"

"Oh man, I dunno. Like, I know it sounds super lame, but I was hoping that taking all my generals would help me find a major, right? I kinda just want to go to a trade school for mechanics, but I think my pop would kill me. So, I'll just take a bunch of random classes and see what happens, yknow?"

"Interesting. Why would your father oppose you going to a trade college?" I had only met the man a few times. While he was strict, he was also a very comedic man, and loved a good laugh. I could hardly picture him telling his athletic son that he was not to pursue his love of machinery.

"I don't really know. I guess he just thinks it's like, 'an easy way out' or something. He has a point, and everything, but I don't want to build cars because I'm too lazy to go to some prestigious university. I actually like doing it."

I nodded, feeling empathetical. My parents had also pushed me to major in something different than what I really enjoyed. They thought botany was not an esteemed area of science, physics was old hat and thought I could only find work teaching in those areas. Of course, they were highly respected engineers, and they tended to think that there was much more respect in jobs that _improve__d _the world rather than _studied _it. That being said, they had often encouraged me to learn biology or medicine, both of which I enjoyed, but... it wasn't my favorite.

"Hey Dee?"

I looked up at the ginger, curious.

"Yes?"

He kicked a rock in front of him, looking at the ground. "I was just thinking about what you said earlier. About your panic attacks? I looked em up during lunch, yknow, and it sounds like they can pretty dangerous, yknow? Like, people freak out and everything and hurt themselves or get in crashes and stuff. Do you think...like, that'll happen to ya?"

I nearly stopped in my tracks. Was Kevin Barr _worried _about me?

"I-uh, well, I don't know, honestly. I suppose it's possible. I seem to get pretty extreme attacks, so I guess that if I were unable to get out of the public eye or if I acted out while panicking, I could hurt myself and others," I thought, my mind racing. I never considered that my attacks could be _threatening. _The very idea made my skin crawl. What if I clung to someone, or pushed someone out of the way? What if in my panic, I hurt someone? Not only would people know that I had an issue, but I could actually _injure _them! I didn't want to hurt anybody! That would be absolutely-

"I just thought that maybe you could, I dunno, you could like, find me or something if you thought you were gonna freak out. I mean, I already know that you get them, right? It might help if someone is there to keep you from hurting yourself or whatever."

Kevin's face was tinted, a blush spreading from his neck to his cheekbones. I paused, dumbstruck. Now Kevin wanted to _help _me? Why? Did he pity me? Did he think I couldn't handle it? Was he afraid I would make a fool of myself? Did he feel entitled now that he knew what was going on? Was he trying to make up for how things were between us as children? Or, worse, was he tricking me into something?

"You scared me half to death last time," he said quietly, frowning.

I stopped, looking at him. He turned around, his blush even darker now.

"I'm sorry," I said, closing my eyes and holding tightly to the strap on my bag. "I hate to be rude, but... _what?_ I had absolutely no intention of dragging you into this-which I do apologize for- but I can't understand why it matters to you so much. I mean, honestly, we haven't had a conversation this long since elementary school. I just don't know where this all came from."

He scowled harder. "I don't know man, I just... It sucks that you get 'em, yknow? I thought I could help you out or something. I know I was kind of a dick when we were kids but I thought that we could, I dunno, start over. Besides, if you hurt yourself or somebody I would feel bad that I didn't try to help out."

I considered this. Start over? With Kevin Barr? It seemed...dangerous. If I were to be seen affiliating with someone like him, especially if he was seen helping me, it could be bad for both of us. I wasn't sure how people would react, and I doubted it would be with open arms. Not that the public interest was my main concern, but I really didn't want to bring back the teasing and ridicule I endured while in junior high. I looked at the ground sadly, my eyes half lidded.

"People aren't going to like it," I stated glumly. They pushed away my best friends last time, and it still hurt. Eddy caused so many fights that he was moved schools, and eventually his family moved a few states over to get a new start. It was rumored that he was put into a military school, but whenever I e-mail him about it, he denied it. He seemed to be doing better, but I hadn't spoken face-to-face with the boy for over almost three years. Ed on the other hand couldn't take the bullying, as he was incredibly sensitive to the harsh words and would not defend himself. He dropped out, moving in with Rolf to work on the farm with him. When family crisis demanded that Rolf return to his home country, Ed followed. The last time we spoke was Christmas, and the conversation was rather brief.

I was the only one left. Eventually, I learned to block out all the words and laughter, though it was quite difficult. At first, people from my neighborhood tried to help me. Sarah, Ed's sister, had taken to me for a while, probably because she missed her brother, but she was involved in a fight and got pretty hurt, after which I begged her not to get involved. She agreed, now spending her time defending Jimmy. Nazz had also been kind, but as her friend groups joined in on the teasing, she stopped standing up for me and slipped into the crowd. I didn't really blame her- if she continued to help me she would likely lose them, and in the process, become a target herself.

And Kevin? While he stopped being a bully himself, he was like Nazz and let it happen. I held no ill towards either of them.

But I was, in every sense of the word, alone. It was safer that way, and I knew it.

Kevin, however, seemed to think differently. He scoffed, giving me an incredulous look.

"Since when does that matter to you? No offense, man, but you've never exactly _conformed _to what society wants. Why would you let it stop you now? If you don't want my help, fine, but don't tell me you're worried about what all those bozos think. I mean, you're a _nerd _for crying out loud! Use that genius mind of yours and think: how could it get any worse than it already has? You get_ panic attacks_, man! That's not bad enough for you to realize you might need help? Are you kidding?"

I said nothing. He had a point, of course. How was I supposed to defend myself against such an argument? So I didn't, I just continued to walk, my hands wringing the strap of my bad mercilessly. I got about ten steps before a warm hand came down on my shoulder, stopping me. I turned back to the ginger, who scowled.

Kevin shook his head and took a large breath, frustrated. "Listen, Dee," he said, the words a bit strained in his barely contained anger. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at ya. It just... it sucks, yknow? And I- I don't know, I just feel bad."

Despite my inner protests, the corner of my lips turned up slightly, a smile forming on my face. I put a tentative hand on the boy's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his skin through the thin t-shirt.

"Thank you, Kevin. I appreciate your concern. But I think I can handle it for now. Really, though, thank you. Your sympathy means a lot."

It was at this point that I realized we were nearing my home, and I didn't want to keep him from getting to his own house longer than necessary.

"Perhaps I will see you again soon," I said quietly. He didn't look up, just scowled at the ground slightly, muttering a halfhearted 'sure'. Knowing that my presence could only make things more awkward I bid him farewell, quickly walking to my door and unlocking it, slipping into the house without a word.

Kevin, unbeknownst to me, cursed, kicking at the side of the lawn angrily before going home. He wasn't sure why he was so upset, or why he felt so determined to help me. But my situation bothered him. A lot.

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**Thoughts? Rants? Let me know! *hugs and kisses***

**-M**


	5. Chapter 5- Punches

I took a deep breath, taking in the scents of my clean, empty home. It was a soft, comforting scent. It was a cocktail that consisted of polished wood, leather, clean laundry and had a slight tang of cleaning product that was not too potent, but reminded me that the house was, in fact, spotless. The constant nagging of my disorder seemed to dull a bit with the cleanliness and security of my own space, and I enjoyed the freedom.

I slipped out of my loafers and into my house slippers, padding down the carpeted hall to the living room quietly. I hung my messenger bag up, taking my books out and setting them down on the counter, rubbing my thumbs against the glossy cover of the top book. I turned around, unlocking the small ipod on the stereo, flipping it to my 'spring afternoon' playlist and letting the music play. It was quiet, classical music consisting mostly of orchestra pieces, noises that always helped calm me.

After going to the restroom to adjust my hat and wash my hands properly, I returned to the kitchen to start my studies. I spent the next half hour going over my chemistry and English homework, easily finishing a take-home quiz and outlining my research essay that wasn't due until the end of the week.

After that was done the books were returned to their places, my hands were cleaned once again and the counter was sanitized.

I glanced out the kitchen window while leaving the room, my actions forgotten as the warm sunlight from the late afternoon sun heated the skin on my face and arms. It felt absolutely delightful. I didn't have any other plans for the night besides reading my psychology book until I needed to make dinner, but the prospect of a peaceful walk was so inviting I could not resist.

I slipped my shoes back on, re-applied sunscreen onto my cheeks and nose, grabbed my keys and left, locking the door securely behind me. Once I stepped out into the full sunlight I stopped, closing my eyes and taking a large breath in. While the thought of walking through dirt and mud made my hands twitch, the clear, open air compelled me forward.

I walked out of the cul-de-sac, clasping my hands behind me as I chose a random street to follow, unconsciously counting the steps on each road and memorizing every turn with calculated precision.

And I thought.

I had always been a deep thinker, and I often enjoyed daydreaming about anything and everything that I wished. Today I focused on what Kevin Barr had told me earlier. I hadn't had a personal conversation with anyone in quite some time, and while I found it quite refreshing, it also put me on edge. While I was fighting to keep from suspecting something from the tall athlete, I also wondered how he felt about the conversation. Had I been too defensive? Then again, was my caution not justified? And what had caused his sudden protective nature? Perhaps, over the years he had grown to defend others instead of poking fun of them. How would I know?

Did I want to know?

He did seem serious about it, albeit quite embarrassed. Why would that be? Had he been fearing that I question his intentions, or rather, his actions? I had done just that, hadn't I?

_Oh dear. I truly hope I didn't do anything to upset him. He was just trying to be friendly, wasn't he? If not, no harm done, but if so... I'm sure my curt reaction was not what he was hoping for. Curses. He was just starting to be friendly with me, after all, and it would be a shame if this incident made him realize that he does not in fact want to speak with me anymore. _

I tsked, shaking my head. What selfish intentions I had! He was not obligated to help me because he was kind enough to offer his compassion in a moment of need. No no, it was quite forward of me to dare accept such an offer. Truly, he didn't understand the implications of such an agreement, and I wasn't going to let him regret being kind to me.

Even if that meant my rejection of his proposal made him resent me.

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At some point, I came across the skate park, a place I usually tried to avoid. It was dirty, it always smelled of smoke and those who skated there were none too kind. It was a place for teenagers to skate, smoke and start fights. While it had become quite the hangout, I had never entered its gates, and even walking past it made my skin crawl.

"Look who it is. King of the Nerds himself. Why don't you take the ruler from outta yer ass and teach us a thing or two, Edd?"

The voice in question was owned to none other than one of the skate park's regular- Ricky Holland. He was a short, sturdy boy with a thing for off-center snap backs, baggy pants and a mustache he had proudly sported since the ninth grade. While he was known for his brute behavior, it was his quick insults and snobbish attitude that gained attention. Many people, including myself, did their best to avoid his cynical gaze, but I was in his territory. He usually didn't bother the people who came in the park, especially if they were popular, but people such as myself were quite unwelcome. I ignored his comment and kept walking, my heart beat gathering speed as I realized that escape, _immediate _escape was necessary.

"Yo, nerd! Hey! Where ya goin'? The boys and I wanna talk to ya!"

My breath hitched and I moved faster, keeping my eyes forward as I tried to get away from the scene.

The sound of something shattering near my feet caused me to jump and I looked down to see a broken beer bottle on the curb not a foot from me. I looked up, startled, the angry glares of Ricky and his gang making my blood run cold.

"I said we wanna _talk to ya, nerd!" _

Other patrons, hearing the commotion, looked to see what was happening. The extra eyes seemed suffocating, and my neck started to ache. I swallowed, my throat much too dry for me to respond. As Ricky, his face covered in an angry scowl, got up to walk towards me, I saw a couple of jocks snicker, the girls on their laps either giggling along with them or looking horrified at the prospect of confrontation.

Ricky quickly approached me, the smell of marijuana and beer trailing along with him and making my eyes water. I could feel my hands begin to shake as I held them behind me, my lip quivering as I began to breathe faster, terrified. Ricky was a couple inches shorter than I, but he could easily take me down in a fight, and we both knew it.

"Got nothin' to say, huh? Think you're better than us, do ya? Think cuz' you're an ass-kissing little twerp thatcha can ignore the rest of us? You arrogant son-of-a-bitch," he said, quickly grabbing my collar and yanking my head down, as I yelped in surprise. "Why I oughta beat the shit outta-"

"Hey! Back it up, Holland!"

Ricky let go and looked back in shock as an enraged red-head stormed up to him, righting his hat on his head backwards as he approached, his fierce dark eyes glaring at the shorter boy with a look that could kill. Ricky smiled devilishly, grabbing me by my upper arm and dragging me a few steps forward.

"What's that, Barr?"

The red-head clenched his fists, getting closer. "I said hands _off_, dip shit."

"And why should I do that, carrot top?" Ricky asked, his grip tightening on my slightly. I looked at Kevin, who met my gaze, and I shook my head, silently begging him no to get involved. I was practically hyperventilating now, my lungs aching with the need to run away. Kevin ignored my pleading look, snarling at the boy currently keeping my arm hostage.

"Cuz I'll beat your ugly mug into the fucking pavement if you don't," he growled. Ricky looked at the boy's friends, then his own, wagering. Then he shrugged, a smug smile on his lips. He threw me forward, letting me go and pushing me towards Kevin, who quickly stepped in front of my quivering body.

"Alright, take em. Didn't want his fucking fag germs on me anyway."

Kevin moved like lightning, his teeth clenched as he slugged the shorter boy in the jaw with a sickening _thud_. Ricky stumbled back, holding his jaw in shock a moment before scowling darkly.

"Boys!" he yelled, his friends scrambling to get up to defend him and gang up on the football player, some shouting with excitement at the prospect of a good fight. At the same time, a couple of Kevin's friends jumped up from their table, meeting them to back up their ginger friend. A fight broke out between them, gaining the attention of the rest of the park. A few spectators joined in, whether because they were supporting a side or just looking for blood I wasn't sure. Ricky turned to us again, but Kevin was quicker, turning the boy around forcefully and kicking him as hard as he could in the back, sending the shorter boy sprawling. Kevin turned to me, grinning wickedly.

"Let's get outta here!" he said, grabbing my wrist and taking off, dodging a few people as he pulled as out into the street and down the pavement a ways, quickly coming upon his motorcycle. He pulled the helmet off, shoving it on my head and beckoning for me to climb on.

"C'mon, man!" he called, revving the engine. I had always been terrified of motorized bikes, but currently the angry crowd scared me even more. I scrambled on, unsure, my hands quickly doing the strap on the helmet as Kevin took off, making me jump and wrap my arms around him in fright. He sped away, laughing, gaining speed and moving at what seemed like an impossible pace, the scenery blurring beside me and the wind whipping violently at my clothing.

It couldn't have been more than a few minutes before the bike slowed, and Kevin cut the engine. We were at a small diner, one I had never been to. I raised an eyebrow, confused.

"What? Thought we'd go home? You know if things get ugly, that'll be the first place they'll go. We gotta lay low for a couple hours until everything dies down. 'Sides, this place had the best milkshakes in the world." With that he jumped off the bike, walking toward the entrance. I quickly pulled the helmet off, righting my hat before running to catch up.

We both got malts, mine being a chocolate fudge, and his being mint chocolate chip. While I was in no way a huge fan of such a commodity, I had to admit, they weren't half bad, if not a bit rich. After we had sat there for a few minutes Kevin cleared his throat, stirring his shake slowly.

"You just can't stay outta trouble, can ya?"

I paused, blushing slightly. "No, I-I suppose not. I never should have come near that place. I-uh, I am very sorry to have gotten you involved, I didn't mean for, uhm, things to get so...out of hand, as it were."

Kevin gave me an incredulous look. "You kiddin? I've been dying to clock that jerk for ages," he stated, a smug grin on his face. It slowly faded and his face turned thoughtful as he began to chew on his straw, mulling something over. He sighed, shrugging as he muttered something.

"'Sides. It ain't fair, what he said. It wasn't true."

I smiled. The boy's honest concern was really starting to grow on me, despite my protests.

"Well, thank you. I fear I would be much worse off if you hadn't intervened."

Kevin gave a humorless chuckle. "You say that like its no big deal. They coulda really hurt ya, yknow? I mean, geez. Doesn't that scare ya?"

I put my hands in my lap and shrugged, my eyes focused on the table edge closest to me. "People have been...less than hospitable since second grade. While physical confrontation has been quite uncommon, I am quite aware of the possibility. It does cause... certain concern, as I'm sure it would with anyone, but I know that there isn't much to be done. I could obviously be a bit more careful next time, but I cannot avoid people like Ricky my whole life."

The jock just shook his head. "Dude, honestly? That mentality is fucked up. You can't just accept that people are jerks to ya. That's lettin em win."

Curious, I gestured to him, my voice questioning. "Then what is there to do?"

Kevin threw his fists up, grinning wickedly. "Fight em back! Give those losers a taste of their own medicine! Can you imagine their faces? It'd be priceless!"

He faked a few punches, laughing as he imagined the shock on my supposed victims' faces. I chuckled at his excitement, a hand going up to cover the gap in my teeth when I grinned. It seemed as if his pep was quite contagious.

"As comical as it might be, I'm afraid that's not the type of 'medicine' I am very likely to give anyone. Though seeing Ricky's expression would be quite the spectacle."

"You kiddin? I'd have to record it. I would pay good money to see that arrogant bastard eat dust, especially if you were the one servin it."

"Thank you, I think."

The red head sat back, setting his hands behind his head with a loud sigh. "Man. You put up with a lot of shit, dontcha?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, don't you ever just wanna... I dunno. Yell? Get mad? Fight back?"

It was my turn to laugh. "Of course not! What on earth would that accomplish? Why would I do the very thing I am trying to hard to avoid? It would be fighting fire with fire."

"But it feels _awesome."_

"I wouldn't very well know that, would I?"

He seem to consider this a moment, before smirking and moving to stand, pulling me by my wrists to make me stand next to him. "So punch me. Right now"

"_Excuse me?"_

"No, really! Just go for it. Punch me," he urged, taking a defensive stance and waiting. I gaped at him, automatically leaning back and putting my hands up defensively. My voice rose an octave, and I stuttered.

"What?! I-I-no! I wouldn't-why would I punch you?"

"So ya know what it feels like! C'mon, man. Go for it!"

"No!"

He grabbed one of my hands, pushing my fingers into a fist, tapping his forehead with my clenched hand. "Just like that. No big deal. Just go for it."

I sat there a moment, dumbfounded, before I bit my lip, closed my eyes and pulled back quickly, pushing my first forward and striking him. My own strength surprised me and I hit him with quite a bit of force, though I hadn't really meant to. He let out a shocked laugh before wincing, holding a palm to his forehead, his eyes wide and excited.

"You just- oh god!" he said, caught between laughing and grimacing, "You really just hit me!"

I pulled my fist back swiftly, holding it to my chest as I panicked. "Oh dear! I am so sorry- I can't believe I just did that! I didn't mean to hurt you! Oh Lord, I am so so sorry!"

Kevin opened one eye, a devilish smirk on his face. "I'm impressed, Dee. I didn't think you'd do it."

"I can hardly believe it myself! I don't know what I was thinking! I'm so sorry Kevin, I really didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Nah man, I told ya to do it. I deserve it anyway. So? How'd it feel?"

"Terrible!"

"Aww c'mon. It wasn't relieving?"

"No, I feel so badly!" I said, putting my hands on his cheeks and tilting his head towards my own, inspecting him for injury. His forehead was red, but it didn't seem swollen and I doubted it would even bruise. Still, it looked painful. After a moment I realized that I was being incredibly touchy and blushed at how close we were, quickly extracting my hands from him, lowering my hands back to my sides awkwardly.

"Well, it seems that I didn't cause too much damage, at least," I muttered, trying to recover from my fumblings. He grinned, rubbing the area slightly, his head cocked to the side.

"No? Guess we'll have to try again some other time, then. Practice 'till I can get some battle scars."

I scoffed, blushing harder. "I am _never _doing that again," I vowed, mortified at my impulsive behavior. The ginger only grinned, shrugging.

"We'll see."

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After finishing our malts Kevin led me back outside to his bike, where he handed me the helmet once again. I wasn't excited about getting back on the death trap, and the lack of safety gear was seriously unnerving.

"Shouldn't you be wearing this?" I inquired slowly, worried.

"I've got a thick skull. You, on the other hand, need to protect that genius brain of yours," he said nonchalantly, poking me in the head before mounting the bike. "C'mon, smart stuff, we haven't got all night."

I rolled my eyes, rubbing my thumbs against the shiny material before slipping it on. We rode off, my hands going tightly around the boy's middle for fear of falling off. I tried to ignore the loud noises and the awkward position I was in, watching the scenery as it passed by. The sun was just setting, and the color of the sunset was quite pleasing against the trees. After a few minutes, however, something started to prick at the back of my mind.

My fingertips started to tingle.

I hurriedly looked around me- we were still about five minutes from our neighborhood.

My neck began to ache.

I tried to say something but choked, my too throat dry to properly form any sort of noise.

My mind started to spin, and my stomach dropped.

_Oh no._

I gasped, a tremble wracking my body as I struggled to remain composed. My hands were all but numb and my eyes were shut tight, tears pricking in the back of my skull. My breaths became short, quick gasps, the air burning all the way from my mouth to my lungs. I let out a strangled whimper, my head pounding and my chest full of dread.

I couldn't feel it, but my grip started to slacken, and when Kevin turned sharply, I slipped, almost falling off the bike. Kevin straightened, startled, reaching back and grabbing one of my wrists and pulling me closer.

"Dee? Dee! Hey- Dee!" he called, trying to get a response from me. I could barely hear him, my body trembling considerably. In my panicked state mind I clung to him, as he was the only solid thing in my turvy-topsy world. Tears started to leak from my eyes. There was a horrible mix of engine noises and rushing blood in my ears, and it made me nauseous. I started to claw at the helmet's strap, desperately trying to get the cage off my head. Something warm encompassed my hand, and it made it impossible to take the thing off, which only scared me further.

_Take it off take it off I can't breathe I can't breathe I'm trapped please get me out take it off take it off I can't breathe I can't-_

I was suddenly thrown, or lifted, or pushed in another direction, the sounds changing. There was incredible warmth and restraint, which I fought against. Then, there was coolness and freedom. I took quick, gasping breaths and rolled onto my side, curling in on myself as I shivered, putting my hands in front of my face to hide the tears and block out everything around me. I couldn't seem to get enough oxygen- my brain was starving for it. It felt like I was drowning above water.

Slowly, so slowly, I began to relax. The first thing I noticed was the noise. It wasn't loud, or angry, but strange and constantly changing. I couldn't decipher it. I started to feel tiny pricks in my arms and face and it took me a moment to process that it was grass. I hadn't known I was lying down. My body ached with tension, my knees pulled up as far as they could, my hands firmly pressed against my face. I took a deep breath and opened my eyes, peeking in between my fingers.

The sky was beautiful.

Then a voice, Kevin's voice, finally started making sense.

"Hey. You're alright. C'mon, man. It's good, it's good. C'mon Dee."

I pulled my hands away, blinking. The grass beneath me shifted, the tiny blades prickling at my skin. I tried to sit up, two hands coming to my upper arms to help me. I blinked again, taking in my surroundings. I could see the street, Kevin's bike and a freckled face inches from my own.

"Dee?"

"..Yes?"

"You okay?"

I nodded. Kevin stood, reaching down and helping me to get back on my feet. I was a bit wobbly, my body still shaking from the horrible spasms of my attack, but I was able to get up on my feet without falling. I noticed that we were back at the cul-de-sac, on my own lawn. Part of me wondered just how we had gotten there so fast, but the rest of me didn't care. I was crashing, and quickly. Kevin sighed, taking an arm and putting it on his shoulders, helping me walk up the steps to my front door.

"Gimmie the keys," he said softly. I pulled the house key from my pocket and handed it to him. He unlocked the door, kicked it open and pulled me in, without any sort of complaint from me. He walked me straight to the living room couch where I collapsed, exhausted. I was almost immediately asleep, my eyes shutting and my body relaxing so quickly it would put a drunk to shame.

Apparently I hadn't fallen very gracefully, and I landed at a very strange looking angle. Kevin laughed slightly, moving to right my body to a more comfortable position and setting the house key on the coffee table next to the couch. He considered writing a note explaining why I was passed out on the couch, but didn't want to go looking for a notepad and writing utensil. He also thought he ought to give me blanket, but resisted for the same reason. Instead he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, eventually turning around and walking out the door, muttering 'dork' under his breath.

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**Double Delinquent. Double Distressed. Double Dashing. Double Delirious. Double Dangerous. Double Daydreamer.  
**

**I'm trying to up my Nat-inpsired nicknames and get on Queen Missdellusion's level. **

**Am I there yet?**

**.**

**Tell me what you think!**

***hugs and kisses***

**-M**


	6. Chapter 6- Dishwashing

Kevin quickly returned home, picking up his discarded helmet and keys from the soft grass and riding away. While it wasn't really that hard to get a good laugh out of the young boy, the sound of his engine was one of the things that never got old. His motorcycle was his prize possession, and with good reason. He tried his best to get excellent care for the bike, investing almost all of his lawn-mowing money into keeping it updated. While some saw it as a strange obsession, others found it quite endearing that he was so dedicated to the bike's maintenance.

Few could argue his authenticity when he was darting in and out of traffic at an incredible speed, moving with skill and a determined stubbornness often found in teenagers. If his father or his mother were to see the way he drove- usually far above the speed limit, testing just how close he could cut his corners-they would have been horrified. All were well aware of the danger involved in motorcycle crashes, Kevin included. He just didn't care.

There was something to be said about the freedom riding seemed to give him. It was more than the speed. More than the danger. It was the wind that flapped his loose t-shirt. It was the sunlight that he could feel on his skin. It was the sound, the feel and the smell of his bike as it rushed down the highway. He couldn't get enough of it. It made his heart beat faster, his eyes dilate and his mouth turn into a mischievous grin.

Some people did drugs. Kevin rode his bike.

When he opened the door, Kevin set his keys and helmet on the hall table near the door, taking a deep breath in. He could smell something spicy, and he smiled at the aroma.

"Kevin? Is that you?"

"Yes, Ma. It's me."

"Get in here, mister! You have some explaining to do!"

Kevin groaned, rolling his eyes. A curt "I heard that" could be heard from the kitchen and only made him throw up his hands in exasperation. He rounded the corner to face his mother in all her glorious fury. He stood in front of him in her sensible heels, simple business-like-sleeveless-dress, perfect blonde bun and apron, her manicured fingernails wrapped tightly around a spatula. She stood at an impressive five six, though Kevin had already passed her at five nine. Despite height differences she was in no way underestimated.

The woman was a part-time business manager and full-time mother and everything that came with it. With Kevin's father working every week in a factory, she had completely taken over house duties. Despite being at a healthy weight she was definitely large and _in charge_, and everyone knew it. She was prompt, blunt, and made the best baked goods this side of the country. She was beloved by the football and baseball team, who all called her 'Mama Barr'. There wasn't a place in the town where she was not known or respected.

Such was the power of Madeline Renae Barr.

"Where were you this afternoon?"

"Just in town with the guys, Ma. Why?"

"I heard a fight broke out at the park. Someone told me that you were involved quite heavily. Is that true?"

Kevin resisted rolling his eyes. He knew better to deny it, of course. His mother almost always knew _everything. _Kevin never did figure out how she was able to gather so much gossip so quickly, but she was rarely ever wrong. Mother's intuition, he would often scoff. He shrugged, giving his mother a familiar smirk.

"Things got a little outta hand. No big deal," he said nonchalantly, trying to move past her and go to the basement. She stepped in his way, her face darkening slightly.

"Oh, it is a big deal. Two boys were sent to the hospital, Kevin, including Jason Scott and Erik Holland. Did you start that fight?"

"Wait- Jason's in the hospital? Is he alright?" Jason was a fighter, for sure, and had been to the hospital for brawling before, but Kevin wouldn't have guessed anyone would have seriously hurt from such a small spat.

"Broken nose and collar bone at the very least," his mother retorted, crossing her arms as she awaited an explanation. "His mother was all but hysterical on the phone earlier. She also wanted to make sure you were alright- Jason was worried about you."

Kevin winced. He knew that leaving the fight too quickly would mean his friends wouldn't know where he had gone, but he assumed they'd be more mad than worried. Not that they needed him or anything- oh no, they were always itching for a fight and were happy to bring it. That's why they had essentially become so close- sure, they did sports together, but it was different after you knew you could call someone in a tight spot and they would have your back. Kevin was more a supporter than a starter of the fights- but he still had a temper on him.

"What happened, Kevin?" she demanded. He sighed.

"It was nuthin', Ma! Holland-the older one-was bein' a real jerk. That's all."

Her face softened and she reached up, brushing off her son's shoulders, her face thoughtful. She did that when she felt affectionate but was trying not to be suffocating, as she knew he hated that.

"You defended him."

It wasn't a question- she knew exactly what the fight was about. Kevin knew he shouldn't have been surprised. Even when his mother held every card in the deck she would ask you to play your hand just to see what you would say. Because of it, Kevin was always honest, sometimes brutally so. He had longed learned that his mother was far too good for him to lie to, even if he wanted to.

"Ricky wouldn't leave the kid alone," he admitted quietly, the image engraved in his brain. "I thought he was gonna hit em."

"So you hit Ricky."

"Not at first! I told em to back off, an' he wouldn't. So yeah, I hit em!"

She smiled slightly, her attentive eyes capturing the slight blush on her son's freckled cheeks. She would never congratulate him for being violent, but she was proud. Her son was athletic, good looking and she knew he was popular, but none of that held a candle to his kindness. It was, in her opinion, his best quality. As tough or as bored as he tried to act, he was still a caring person on the inside.

"Well," she said curtly, standing a bit taller, "you'll have to call Jason's mother and let her know you aren't hurt. Then you will call the Holland's and apologize, do you hear me? He may have deserved it, but his mother sure didn't. Alright?"

Kevin rolled his eyes, stepping out of his mother's grip. "Yeah, sure."

"Don't roll your eyes at me, mister!"

"Okay, okay!"

.

Later that night, as they were cleaning dishes, Kevin's mother handed her son a wet plate, her voice even as she spoke, though desperate curiosity seemed to claw at her head and heart.

"What did Ricky say to him?"

"Huh? Who?"

"Eddward Marion. What did Ricky say to him?"

Kevin scoffed. "Can't say it in front of a lady. But he was callin' him a nerd and tellin' him how arrogant he was. Grabbed the kid's collar like he was gonna punch em."

She frowned harder. "Why? He's not hurting anybody."

Kevin shrugged. "How should I know? Maybe that's why he did it- kid's not gonna fight back." he grinned, remembering something. "Trust me."

"It's such a shame," she interjected, unsettled. "he's such a nice boy. He doesn't deserve the life he was given," she decided, clicking her tongue. It was something Kevin had heard many times before. If there was something that bothered Madeline Renae Barr, it was poor parent involvement. She herself had given up plenty to be her son's caretaker, and she was proud of it. Many people didn't approve of the woman running her own household, but she couldn't care less. After a few years people learned to keep their mouth shut, since it was obvious that she was more than capable of caring for herself, her house and her son.

It broke her heart when she found children whose parents didn't put raising them as their top priority. She didn't think it was fair to a child that they be 'tossed aside'. While she didn't want to interfere in anyone's personal life, there was definitely a few things she was aching to tell the doctor couple.

"Maybe you should invite him over," she suggested flippantly, reaching in the sink to pull the drain and let the soapy water disappear. Her ginger son said nothing, frowning as he dried the last glass. He handed it to her, staring at the clear glass in their hands.

"Maybe."

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I was awoken by the birds once again, my eyes opening slightly to the light streaming through the bay window. I was, however, not in my bedroom, nor was I on a bed. Rather, I was situated quite precariously on the living room sofa, my hat sliding almost completely off my head and my clothing wrinkled. I shut my eyes once again, groaning in embarrassment at the events that led to the situation came back to mind.

I'd had an attack in front of Kevin.

Again.

"This has got to stop," I said to no one, rubbing a hand down my face. I took a deep breath and sat up, letting my hat fall off behind me. I stretched my arms above my head, arching my back and yawning. It took me a minute to gather my bearings and rub the sleep out of me eyes, tiredly processing everything I could remember before I had fallen asleep.

It was all quite humiliating. It was bad enough that he had witnesses the attack _before, _but having him see it again was just plain ridiculous. I knew it would only serve to solidify his concerns towards my safety and the safety of those around me unfortunate enough to be in my presence during an attack.

I sighed, knowing that while it was embarrassing to have been observed _yet again, _I was really quite lucky. Kevin was, as far as I could tell, sympathetic and he handled it well. Especially considering it happened on his bike, and I could have very easily fallen off and injured both of us. He had managed not only to get us both somewhere safe, but then helped me through my energy crash. It was a bit unsettling to think he had been in my house, but there wasn't anything I could do about it now.

Besides thank him, of course.

I went upstairs, quickly climbing into the shower and changing into my pajamas. I was too awake to sleep, so I went downstairs and made myself something to snack on while I studied. While kale chips and Stoichiometry were both very enjoyable, it wasn't long before my mental and physical exhaustion made my eyelids droop. I put the book down and put the chips away, washing my hands a couple times before shutting all the curtains and double checking the window locks. After my inspection was done I went back upstairs, setting out clothing for the next day and opening my window 26.3% before falling back on my bed with a _poof._

I could barely make myself move under the covers before I was fast asleep, dreaming about milkshakes and freckled cheeks.

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**Sorry this took so darn long...**

**I'm hoping to write the next one tomorrow. **

**Thoughts?**

**Feelings?**

**Rants?**

**Questions?**

**Go for it.**

***hugs and kisses***

**-M**


	7. Chapter 7- Admirer

My breath came fast and hard, and I could feel the voracious pounding of my heart vibrating through my throbbing skull. There was no up or down, no light or dark, no in or out. There was just me, and my panic. I was consumed, eaten alive, tortured, destroyed by the dread and fear that tore a hole through my chest. Cold sweat dripped from my forehead and I whimpered, trying to swallow the scream in my throat.

It couldn't be happening. It wasn't happening. I was okay, I was okay, I was fine, there was nothing wrong-

I let out a sob, my shoulders shaking as I pulled tightly at my hair, lowering my head further onto my knees. I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached and I shook horribly, my mind spinning as I tried desperately to gain back the control I had lost.

"Please, please, make it stop," I begged, my voice thick and cracking as I continued to rock back and forth, my eyes shut tightly.

I was falling, I was drowning. I couldn't get enough oxygen- it was like my lungs were filled with cotton. My mouth was dry and my breath hitched as I sobbed, small whimpering sounds coming out of my mouth. I gasped, I trembled, and I cried, all the while slouching further and further down the wall until I was laying down, my arms covering my head and my knees pulled to my chest.

"Stop it, please, please stop it. I can't, I can't," I whimpered, feeling the carpet dig into my cheek.

I stayed there for a few minutes until the attack subsided, leaving me limp and tear stained on the floor, my limbs sore from the stress and my head aching. I could not coax myself to move and instead chose to lay there, staring at the molding that ran along the floor. My hands didn't even twitch- I lay completely motionless.

It was at this time that the burden of my attacks really seemed to hit. I no longer saw them as small inconveniences. No, they had become quite the obstacle. I was afraid to leave the house, knowing that at any moment I would be rendered helpless and terrified, with no way to control or stop it. There was an innumerable number of unpleasant outcomes for such a situation, and I was not especially excited to explore them.

I just wanted to be alone.

I kept my hands close to my chest, warming the chill tips of my fingers in the folds of my sweater. I could feel my hair fan out behind me, and my tears left a sticky wetness on my cheeks. My slippers seemed to have slipped from my feet and I could only imagine how many germs were residing on the expanse of flooring I was currently occupying. But I didn't move. I just lay there, blinking slowly, studying the carpet in the dim morning light. I huffed quietly and let my eyes slide closed, my wet eyelashes tickling the tops of my cheekbones.

I couldn't remember the last time I'd had a full night of sleep. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt hungry. I couldnt remember that last time I'd eaten, either. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt warm, the chill of my anxiety cooling my body temperature quite a bit. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt at ease.

A slow, deep breath escaped me, emptying my lungs and making me feel hollow. I couldn't even feel my heart beat. It was as if everything but my broken mind was functional, my body heavy and still like it was dead. I almost wouldn't mind it. I was tired, and the numbness in my limbs was often more burdensome than it was helpful. I would have rather not felt the numbness, but feel nothing at all.

And then I could finally sleep.

Part of me knew I didn't really want to die. That was ridiculous. Being buried underneath the ground wouldn't fix my problems. It wouldn't make my attacks go away, fix my obsessions or ease the compulsions that seemed to control me. It wouldn't bring back my old friends, or cause me to gain new ones. It wouldn't make me feel like _me _again.

I wasn't sure what would.

.

"Kevin, dude!"

The jock turned around, looking for whoever was calling out to him, smiling when a certain short blonde attached herself to his arm. "Hey Nazz, how's it hangin'?"

"Pretty good, you?"

"Not bad. You got practice this afternoon?"

"Nah. Since it's between seasons, we only have morning practices," she confided, shrugging. Being on the drill team was hard work, and the ginger knew it. While being on the football team and baseball team gave him a sense of respect among his peers for his athletic ability, if he could have it any way he would give the drill and cheer-leading team more of that respect. They worked as hard as any competitive sports team he knew, if not more. Nazz had practically worked herself to death just to get admitted onto the squad, and they never skipped a day of practice.

"What about you?"

"Same practice, as always," he laughed. Nazz was a competitive girl, but she wasn't always the brightest. She was far more interested in learning her routine than studying, something they both felt. Unfortunately for Nazz, however, there was no available scholarship for her particular sport and thus, she had no motivation to keep her grades up. She would do well if she applied herself, but Kevin wasn't even sure she planned to go to college. She had dreams of opening her own studio and teaching, and that didn't require a degree.

"You wanna come over Sunday?" Nazz asked, as Kevin routinely had dinner with her family. His mother and him were often alone, and Nazz's large family had taken them in many times, if only to give them company. Kevin enjoyed spending time with the girl's family, and most of the time he readily agreed.

But he shook his head, giving a sympathetic smile."Can't. Pop's in town, and Ma's cookin' up a storm for Sunday. If I even suggested it she'd lose her mind. You know how she is." It was true. Kevin's father worked in a candy factory far away, and only came home once a month or so. He would drive out and live in his car for the week, working his hands to the bone and then come home for the weekend, greeted by a feast that Kevin's mother always prepared for him. He was a rough, loud man that Kevin respected greatly. He was kind, but firm, and most of the time let his wife do all the talking, as he claimed she knew more than him anyway. It was always nice to have him back, especially if he took Kevin on fishing trips or to the shooting range. But when Monday rolled around he would be gone again before the sun rose, off to work for another few weeks. Kevin's mother had set a rule form when he was very young: he would not, under any circumstances, miss time with his father. And he never had.

"Oh yeah, wouldn't wanna be on Mama Barr's bad side."

"Not many have been there and few have lived to tell the tale!" Kevin said eerily, making Nazz laugh. The blonde waved him off, stepping aside to take a different hallway. "Alright- hey. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Yeah, sure thing. Bye!"

**(Trumpets by Jason Derulo starts playing)**

Kevin continued on his way, bopping his head slightly to a tune stuck in his head. He was greeted by several people as he walked, giving high fives and smiles, nodding to those who addressed him. A football buddy even clasped his shoulder, muttering 'Kev, my boy, right that cap!' to the ginger before turning his hat around, making the jock laugh aloud and blindly smack the perpetrator. The boy in question walked away laughing, and the freckled jock turned the hat back round again, looking up as he was able to see again, something catching his eye.

The sun streamed through the back door windows, outlining a figure that walked across the athlete's path. It all seemed to happen in slow motion as Kevin gawked, the person moving with graceful, fluid motions. He started at the person's feet, his eyes moving up thin, skinny jean clad legs, to the person's chest and arms, their bony hands slightly covered by their cardigan and grasping lightly at the messenger bag hanging from their side. Kevin's mouth opened slightly as his eyes moved further up, passing the person's long, thin neck to a pale face and dark curly hair, which poked through a black hat and bounced as the person walked. The angelic teenager turned to him, smiling earnestly and lifting a hand in greeting, their sky blue eyes lighting up when they landed on Kevin. The nerd's bright smile revealed a slight gap in his front teeth, and it was the first time the Kevin hadn't seen the boy move to cover it.

Kevin could barely think to wave back as Edd passed, feeling completely star-struck.

The kid was so fucking _beautiful _it hurt. It had never even occurred to him until that very moment. He continued to stare, watching as the nerd slipped back into the crowd, moving gracefully between the shoving teenagers, his black beanie quickly getting lost in a sea of hair and caps. Something screamed at the jock, forcing his feet to move. He dove into the multitude, weaving in and out of the throbbing crowd, but to no avail. The thin boy was gone.

He stopped dead, a strange, burning feeling in his chest. It sort of hurt, but he found he liked the feeling. It was a hollow ache, but it made his heart beat a million times a minute. He wanted nothing more than to find the boy, but he also wanted to run in the other direction. It wasn't out of fear, but rather, of excitement.

_What the hell?_

He shook his head, checking for the beanie one last time before continuing his way, confused. He turned the corner, walking past the copy office before halting and backing up, popping his head through the doorway. In the room stood the attractive boy from before, his shoulders shaking with laughter as he conversed with an office lady. She held him by his shoulders at an arm's length, looking over him with a concerned, but happy smile. She said something to him, her brows arched in caution as she spoke. Kevin couldn't make out the words and moved closer, bracing himself along the door-frame. He heard Edd's quiet, polite voice speak quickly, his hands flitting about as he did.

"-to worry about, I assure you."

"Are you sure? I would feel so much better if you did. I'm not trying to be over bearing, I just..."

"I understand, but I don't believe it's necessary. I will inform you if anything changes, however."

"Alright. Now," she said brightly, a wicked smile creeping up her face. "tell me about your admirer."

Kevin raised an eyebrow. _What admirer? Does someone have the hots for Dee? Who? And how would she know?_

"Excuse me? I don't know to whom you are referring..."

"The boy currently staring at you from the doorway, honey. He's been there for quite some time."

Kevin's face lit up, and Dee turned to him, confusing and surprise on his face. He gave a wary smile, taking a step towards the jock carefully.

"Sa-salutations, Kevin! What brings you here?"

The jock stood, stumbling a bit and brushing himself off awkwardly as he tried to come up with a believable reason for staring at him for so long. _Fuck-shit-damn._

"I-uh, I just wanted to talk to ya, is all. I didn't mean to interrupt or nuthin'," he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. Dee's face softened and he gave a reassuring half-smile, grabbing his bag from the table it was resting on. "Well, I'm just about done here, if you would like to converse. Is there anything else you need from me, Ms. Hill?"

The woman waves her hand dismissively, trying not to show how excited she was at the boy being approached by someone as handsome and popular as Kevin Barr and making him get flustered. "No, honey. You're too good to me. Go and have fun, okay? We'll talk later." Dee smiled innocently, nodding and exiting, the freckled jock right behind him. Once they were a few feet away from the door and out of earshot, Kevin blurted the first thing that came to mind.

"You're a teacher's pet for the office lady _too? _Is there any faculty person you _don't _know?"

Dee's face became a shade darker, and he shrugged. "The members of the faculty and staff here do not get the credit they deserve- I just like to show my appreciation by being willing to help. And, of course, being kind."

"You're a regular Mother Teresa."

To his surprise, Dee laughed, his black bangs covering one of his eyes as a hand went to cover his mouth. "Hardly! I'm not even Roman Catholic. Or Catholic at all! But I appreciate the comparison, regardless of its connotation."

"Fair enough," Kevin answered.

"Now," Dee said, turning to him curtly. "What did you wish to discuss with me?"

The ginger cleared his throat, realizing he had no excuse. Quickly, something that really had been bothering him came to mind, and her rolled with it.

"I just- I wanted to ask how things were. What I mean is, yknow, your panic attacks and stuff."

The ebony haired boy blinked, his eyes glazing over as he broke eye contact to look at his hands. He reached up and pulled his hair out of his face, his posture a bit rigid.

"Oh, I see. They are, um, as good as can be expected, of course. It's really nothing to fret over. I don't mean to worry you, because they aren't anything to be upset over, and I certainly don't mean to cause you any distress, especially when-"

"Dee?"

The boy finally looked up, and it was then that Kevin finally noticed. The boy's bright eyes were ringed with dark circles, and his eyes were bloodshot. The hand currently twirling a lock of his hair looked thinner than before, and when the boy tugged, a couple hairs fell out. He hadn't even tugged on them that hard. They just fell out.

"Oh man," the taller boy breathed, "what the fuck is happening? You look half near death, dude!"

Dee scoffed, dropping the hairs and waving the jock off, turning to take a step away. Kevin was quicker, however, and grabbed his wrist, stopping him. "Don't brush me off. Look at me, Dee. I'm serious."

When the thin boy looked back, Kevin could see the tired look in his eye. As much as he wanted to hide it, there was no denying that something was wrong with him. He looked absolutely exhausted, and there was something in his eyes that made Kevin's blood run cold. It wasn't fear, really, nor was it anger. No, it wasn't just fatigue or caution, it was something else. Something far...deeper than that.

He looked lost.

"C'mere," Kevin demanded, pulling the boy by his wrist and steering him down the hall into an empty classroom, giving no mind to the boy's protests. He dropped his bag on the nearest desk and sat down, forcing the boy to sit in the chair beside him. He kept a hold on his wrist and looked him fiercely in the eye, hoping his serious nature would coax the boy into talking. The nerd only looked at their hands, his lips set in a thin line.

"Talk."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Kevin, and this is hardly an appropriate way to start a conversation."

The jock rolled his eyes. "Don't act like I don't know. Things have gotten worse, haven't they? I mean, god! Dee! This isn't okay, man!"

At this the beanie clad boy's head snapped up, and his gaze was piercing. "And I suppose you know what _is _acceptable, Mr. Barr? You are capable of knowing what is _okay_? You thought that dragging me in here would somehow _fix _something? Your athleticism and wit- I'm sorry to say-are poor ways to cope with my disorder. In fact, there is very little I can do about it, thank you _very much_. Not that it's any of _your _business. You have witnessed my attacks and I will continue to be sorry for that, but that does not entitle me to disclose all my personal problems to you, and I hardly think you are in the position to give me advice or tell me what to do," he spat, his blue eyes like daggers.

He took a deep breath, standing. "In fact, I would very much like it if we didn't speak of this again. If you'll excuse me," he replied curtly, turning on his heel.

"Woah, Dee, wait!"

The boy stalled, giving Kevin enough time to catch up with him and turn him by his shoulders, keeping his hands there to keep him grounded.

"Hey. Just listen to me. You're right- I can't fix this, and I shouldn't tell ya what to do. But, man, are you hearing yourself right now? This isn't like you, Dee. I know we haven't talked in a while, but as far as I know, the real Dee doesn't freak out like that. I'm guessing it's cuz you're stressed, and because you don't know what to do. Am I right?"

When Dee didn't respond, Kevin sighed. "You look so tired, man. I'm not trying to boss you around or nuthin'- I just...man. I hate to see you look so down."

Dee didn't respond, as he feared he would get overemotional. He just nodded, closing his eyes. He sniffled, his mouth set in a crooked frown. Kevin clucked his tongue, sighing and wrapping his arms around the thin boy carefully. The nerd responded by pulling his fists up to his chest, gripping the jock's shirt a bit as his forehead fell onto the ginger's shoulder, trying very hard not to cry. But when the ginger rubbed his back, swaying slightly and whispering comforting words in his ear, he couldn't help it and let out a small sob, gripping the shirt in his hands more tightly.

"I-I don't know wh-what to do," he confessed, his shoulders shaking. "I want-t it to s-stop."

"I know, I know," Kevin said softly, his cheek resting slightly on the boy's hat. "It's not fair. I know. It sucks man, it really does. It's not fair."

He continued to hold the frail boy in his arms, the hair sticking out of his hat tickling the ginger's neck. He felt good with the boy there. It scared him a little at how thin he was- that couldn't be healthy, could it?-but having him there felt _right _somehow, like he felt responsible for comforting him. Which didn't make sense, as he had only known about the boy's problem for a little while, and truly wasn't in any way liable for the boy's emotions.

Still.

"Dee, you don't have to tell me anything, but you can't keep all this locked up forever. You know that, don't you?"

Dee said nothing. Kevin held tighter, burying his nose in the boy's hat. He felt horrible- was there nothing he could do?

No, not really.

"I'm here for you, okay? I know you don't believe me, and you're probably not going to bother trusting me, but you can if you want. I just wanna see you get better, okay?"

And for a moment, the nerd believed him.

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**Thoughts?**


	8. Chapter 8- Femininity

**Missdellusion... Double ****_Disinfected. _****Double ****_Disheveled. _****Double ****_Daaay-umm!_**

**Top that, Double _Dellusion. _  
**

***winks and blows kisses*  
**

**.**

**.**

Though being in someone's embrace was doing wonders for my emotional state, I must admit knowing those arms belonged to Kevin Barr made it a little more difficult to enjoy. Mostly because I did not think I belonged there and only_ partially_ because his skin, which was pressed to my face, neck and arms, made goosebumps shiver down my spine from the warmth.

So while wrinkling his shirt with my fists and dampening his shirt with my tears was comforting, I feared I was over stepping my place in his embrace and quickly loosened my grip, attempting to step back and wipe my face of my tears. Kevin had other plans, of course, and tightened his arms around me, ducking his head near my ear, his whisper slightly warm on my neck.

"Relax. You're way too tense. Just chill," he coaxed quietly, his voice somewhat nurturing. Enough in fact that it made my eyes burn and I conceded, leaning slightly against him and letting my shoulders droop. Truthfully, it had been years since I had been truly held in such a way- the last time was almost two years ago when I said goodbye to Ed as he left the country. Both he and I were in tears, and Eddy was already gone.

That was the day when the iconic trio became nothing but a broken memory, a part of some nostalgia laced childhood dream. The type of thing that came back in flashes- often from an old song on the radio, or the slight burn of the summer sun. I had done my best to move on, really I had, but during moments such as these when I was so easily reminded of my isolation, it was a bit hard to swallow.

That, and it was a little heartbreaking to know I could not expect the kind of comfort I was currently receiving from Kevin again.

Therefore I allowed myself to enjoy it, closing my eyes and taking deep, slow breaths to help me calm down. While I would never again take my relaxed state for granted now that I so rarely felt at peace, it made me realize just how..._tired _I felt. I hadn't slept more than a couple hours in far, far too long and I sensed it was becoming more evident every day. It made the circles around my eyes darker, the shake of my hands more noticeable, and frankly, it made it made me more cranky.

_Whoops._

"I apologize for yelling at you," I whispered, feeling incredibly guilty. For all I knew he really was just trying to help me, and it wasn't like he knew exactly how to do that. His intentions seemed pure. Instead of being angry Kevin seemed amused, giving a quick laugh and shrugging. It was such a Kevin-like response it made me smile back. His hushed words, however, pulled the smile from my lips.

"I don't mind being your personal punching bag every once in a while, Dee. You've got it pretty rough, and if it helps to get angry, do it. Yknow?"

I opened my mouth to respond but shut it again, the words not forming properly in my mind. How on earth would intentionally getting upset solve anything? How could punching someone fix any problem I was having- physical, or psychological? What would anger prove?

And why was he offering?

After a minute or so of silence he pulled back, holding me by my shoulders and smirking as I wiped my face with the end of my cardigan sheepishly.

"C'mon. I'll give ya a ride home, alright?" he suggested, turning to walk out the door. I followed, adjusting my messenger bag and hurrying to catch up with him. The building seemed empty and we strolled out to an almost abandoned parking lot, making it easy to spot the boy's shiny, _dangerous _vehicle. Once we were less than five feat of it I stopped, clutching my bag nervously.

"I, uh, I should probably walk home. It's wonderful out today and-"

"Dee."

I looked at him, his face set in an incredulous expression. "You're kidding, right? You've already ridden it before. And I was able to keep you on in the middle of panic attack. I'm pretty sure you'll survive."

I clutched my hands tightly a moment before letting out a pensive breath. "Yes, I suppose that's true...But do try to be careful, please. It would be most unfortunate to die in a vehicle accident." I then climbed on, strapping the helmet that Kevin handed to me, my hands going hesitantly around the boy's stomach. He looked back at me a moment, smiling. "Just poke me or somethin' if you're feelin an attack, yeah? It'd be nice to have a warning next time!" With that he revved the engine, knocking the kickstand back and jerking forward, expertly maneuvering out of the parking lot a surprising speed. I could feel him lean forward a bit, and I had no doubt he was smiling wickedly at the chance to ride his precious bike.

He went remarkably fast, which scared me, but I also found it a bit exhilarating. The sleeves of my cardigan rode up a bit, filling slightly with air, the cool breeze tickling my arms. If I focused on that feeling and not the fact that I was quite literally putting my life into someone else's hands it wasn't nearly as terrifying. I felt the corners of my mouth turn up a bit, and I held on a little tighter.

Riding was definitely not my first choice in transportation.

But it wasn't so awful, either.

It took about five minutes to arrive to my home, though it felt much longer than that. When the bike came to a stop Kevin shut it off, and I quickly climbed off, pulling the helmet off. In the process, however, I managed to tug my beanie off as well, my messy black curls bouncing and falling around my face. I didn't even notice for a moment, too busy trying to right my messenger bag after handing the helmet back. Only when I looked into the shocked face of the jock did I realize what was causing his strange expression. I put a hand to my head, feeling frantically for my hat.

"Oh dear!" I exclaimed, my anxiety spiking at my embarrassment. My horrified expression seemed to shake Kevin out of his daze and he reached into the helmet, bringing out the hat by one hand. I reached for it but he ignored me, leaning forward a bit and carefully placing the cloth over my head, tugging it until it hit the back of my ears, part of my hair still tickling my face. My hands brushed his own as I attempted to pull the cloth farther, my face red with humiliation.

"Thank you- how silly of me. I should have been more careful," I said, disgusted that I had let him glimpse at my ridiculous locks. They looked almost feminine, with large, natural curls and strange layers that fell into my face in some places and reached my shoulders in others. While I often allowed part of my hair poke through, I had never _ever _taken my hat off in public- especially not in front of Kevin. Only Eddy and Ed had seen my obnoxious locks at sleepovers when the hat had fallen off in my sleep. While they had been incredibly curious as to what I could be hiding underneath the black cloth, once they found out that I was only hiding my effeminate waves they dropped it, even going as far as to defend me when others bothered me about taking the hat off.

_"Whatcha hiding, Double D? Got dandruff or somethin'?"_

_"Maybe he's got cancer and lost all 'is hair!"_

_Eddy took a step forward, his fists curled, his lip set in a mean sneer. "Leave the sockhead alone, you stupid jocks. He just don' like goin' without it, ya hear? So beat it!"_

_The jocks had scowled darkly but had complied, knowing that while Eddy was more than happy to bring a fight, the boy fought dirty. Many underestimated him for his 5'5 stature, but when it came down to it, Eddy was quite skilled at brawling because he knew how to cheat. He had a plethora of tactics: weak spots, weapons, distractions and even threats were a few of his favorites. He also had knives on him, and had even managed to make a couple basic smoke bombs, which he was more than willing to use. The boy was short and stocky but he was quick. He often said he had 'street smarts-not school smarts'. He liked it best that way, I suppose._

I blinked, my hands still holding the edge of my beanie as my expression grew somber at the memory. I missed Eddy terribly. He may have been quite vulgar, and frankly, quite self-centered, but when it came down to it, he had always looked out for me. People's favorite insults were to call me girly or a nerd- two things I certainly didn't agree with- and Eddy was the first to step up and call them out, though he did so by being just as hostile. Still, he was always willing to stand up and defend me, no matter who was making fun of me or why. I didn't realize how much I needed it until he left, unfortunately.

"Dee?"

I looked up, breaking away from my thoughts to find Kevin staring at me. I smiled, blushing. "Yes?"

"Why do you hide under that hat?"

"I- what?"

"I've never seen you take it off, not even as kids. Why do you care so much about keeping it on?"

"I'm not feminine," I blurted loudly, still feeling defensive. I couldn't help it- I hated being underestimated because of my somewhat effeminate features, as if having a small frame and curly hair made me less capable of being male.

Seeing the boy's shocked and somewhat confused expression I blushed, stuttering. "I-I mean, uh, that is to say, uhm-"

"You hide underneath that sock cuz' you think your hair makes you look _girly_?" Kevin asked, incredulously. I paused mid shrug, giving him a helpless look. "This isn't cuz' someone called you a fairy that one time, is it? I don't think they meant it like that, really-"

"Someone called me a _what?"_

"Ohh you didn't know that, didja? Don't worry about it."

"You can't just say that! What does it mean to be a _fairy?"_

"It, uh," Kevin said, rubbing his neck, "means you're like, gay or something."

My face paled as I looked at him with wide eyes.

"Oh. Oh my."

The jock peeked up at me, shrugging aplogetically. "It was a joke, honestly. I don't think anyone _believes _it."

I nodded, feeling no more assured. My insides were twisting uncomfortably and I felt the need to be sick. _People are still spreading rumors about me?_ I thought it was long over. I thought my bullies had moved on, found other things to do. I thought I was finally safe from their grasp.

I thought wrong.

"Well," I said curtly, swallowing the lump in my throat and holding onto my messenger bag tightly enough my hands wouldn't shake. "I should be going. Thank you very much for the ride. Farewell." I turned around quickly, attempting to escape when the boy's almost frantic call stopped me.

"Dee! Dee wait. Dude, hear me out," he called, scrambling rather ungracefully off his bike to meet up with me.

"The guy who called you that called you it in the beginning of junior high. No one is making fun of you right now, as far as I know. Besides, they're not right. You're not a fairy and you don't look like a chick. Your hair looks hella rad, and screw anybody who thinks differently, alright? You wouldn't be Dee without your funny hat and hair, yknow? It's just... you. Just Dee."

He put a hand on my beanie clad head, rubbing it affectionately and smirking. I laughed, moving out of his reach and pulling his hand off my head, holding him lightly by his wrist.

"Thank you, Kevin. That means a lot to me, more so than you would imagine."

The ginger smiled wider, pulling his hand from my grasp and forming a fist in front of me, which I tapped with my own. "Just lookin' to help. But hey, if anyone gives ya trouble, lemme know, okay? You're too nice to put em' in your place, but someone oughta. For the betterment of society or whatever." He winked, turning away from me and to his home.

"See ya 'round, Dee!"

"Farewell!"

And with that, I was off to my own abode, one hand cradling the other where I could still feel finger's pressed against my own, a warm and somewhat light feeling in my chest. I reached up and pulled a lock of hair from my hat, letting the bouncy curl fall near one of my eyes.

And I smiled.


	9. Chapter 9- Cards

Kevin tossed a baseball into the air, put his bat back before swinging it forward as hard as he could, hearing a loud c_rack _as the wood connected to leather, sending the ball flying, veering slightly to the left as it soared off into the distance. He watched until it hit the ground a hundred meters or so away before he relaxed his posture, bending down to grab another ball in the small pile at his feet. He had about a dozen baseballs or so, making a collection he had started when he was old enough to throw. Over the years he had broken quite a few of them, and lost a few others. While he often used them in his team practices, it was his solo practices that the baseballs saw the most use. Whenever the teen felt confused, frustrated or bored he would trek to the field about a block behind his home and hit the balls as hard as he could, letting them fly until it was too dark to see or he'd lost them all.

Today he came out and thought about the nerd in the stupid hat. He had been trying to stay out of the kid's way, since he had made it very clear he did not want Kevin's assistance, but the jock couldn't get the sight of the boy's latest attack out of his mind. Well, the latest one he'd_ seen_. It was obvious the young man had no control over his body or mind during such times. It was something that made Kevin both angry, sympathetic and morbidly curious. The strange cocktail of emotions fought for dominance inside his head, leaving him frustrated, confused and worried.

There was nothing he could do, right? It's not freaking out about it would fix anything- in fact, it might make it worse. _He sure didn't like when I got nervous last time, but that was probably cuz' I told em what to do. _He wouldn't be making that mistake again. No, if he were going to approach the young boy again, he was going to do it right!

What _was _the right way to talk to him, anyway?

Speak quietly and try not to make any sudden movements?

Show him that he meant no harm until the kid let his guard down?

_Stop being a freakin' moron, probably._

It wasn't like Kevin was bad at talking to people- he wasn't. The young athlete didn't usually have trouble talking to people, especially non-threatening types like Dee. And in most cases, he would waltz right up and start a conversation with whomever, no problem. However, the dark-haired nerd did something to him that made him feel ..._weird_. Every time Kevin caught sight of the thin, graceful boy he could feel himself staring. His body felt stiff and his stomach felt sick whenever Dee was around, like Kevin's body became spontaneously ill and his nerves had become more sensitive. He got more easily carried away in his dumb emotions and he felt like everything he did looked funny.

Which was annoying and stupid.

As he thought about how many times he'd done something to piss off or offend the young nerd, he grit his teeth and hit another baseball, watching as it went far and high off into the distance. He did it again, and again and again.

_Whip, whack!_

Pause…

_Whip, whack!_

Pause…

_Whip!_

Miss.

_Whip!_

Miss.

_Whip!_

"Damnit!" Kevin yelled, chucking the bat in his hands and kicking the remaining baseballs near his feet. He picked up one of the leather balls and threw it as hard as he could, attempting to let out his frustrations. He picked up another, raising his hand to throw it, but as he was about to swing down a warm hand grasped his wrist tightly. It startled the young boy and he dropped the baseball, wrenching his hand away and turning around. In front of him was a tall, thick man, giving him an amused expression. The man had dark red hair and a splattering of freckles, similar to the young boy in front of him.

"Oh. Hey Dad," Kevin said, dropping his arm, his face softening and his cheeks reddening slightly in embarrassment of being caught.

"Hey Kev. Whatcha' doin?" the man asked, gesturing to the fallen bat and mess of baseballs near his son's feet.

"I just- I was practicing is all," the ginger said, shoving his hands in his pockets. The older man cocked an eye brow.

"Practicing for what? Lookin' like an idiot?"

"No!"

"Hmm. C'mon, pick em' up. Your mother has dinner ready and'll have both our heads if we're late." Begrudgingly, Kevin joined his father and retrieved the fallen sports equipment, hauling them back to their house, no words passing between them. Once back home, Kevin's mother scolded him for being out so late and promptly gave him a heaping of hot, delicious food, serving both he and his father before plopping down and serving herself.

She may have acted upset, but both men knew better. Madeline Renae Barr was one of the best cooks around, and took meals very seriously. Kevin had been disciplined many times, but his mother had never and _would never_ deny him dinner, as it was almost sacred to her. Having her husband and son in the same room enjoying her food was something she never grew tired of seeing, and Kevin had no doubt she'd kill him if he didn't show up for it.

After they'd eaten her roasted vegetables, her Thai noodle dish, her Greek salad and her Key Lime pie, she took the plates off the table and faced them both, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

"Kevin got in a fight this week," she said bluntly, watching both men carefully. Kevin's father tried not to look pleased and cleared his throat to cover a laugh, giving his son a stern look.

"Did he now?" he asked, humoring his wife. Kevin's father had been quite the brute in his younger years, and loved to hear about a good brawl.

"Oh yes. Two boys were sent to the hospital afterwards. Weren't they, Kevin?"

"Uh, yeah, but just for a couple stitches. Well, okay, there were a couple broken bones, but _barely."_

Kevin's father's face lit up a bit. "Who?"

"Jason and the younger Holland kid," Kevin said, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"Jason Scott? The one with the tattoo?"

"Yup. Broken collar bone."

"But did he win?"

"Yeah he did! Why'da think Holland went too? Broken arm and possible concussion. Jason says the younger one was out in less than two minutes. Another guy hit em with his board, which is how they broke 'is collar."

"Was it a long board or skate board?"

"Pretty sure it was a regular board. 'Sbroken now."

"Nice. Holland…the short one with the smirk?"

"Nah, that's his older brother. I'm talkin' about his younger brother- the one with the glasses."

"Oh, I remember him. How old's he?"

"Fifteen, I think."

"Cocky bastard!"

"Exactly."

"Who started the fight?"

Kevin paused. The fun environment seemed to still, and he looked down at his plate.

"Uh…I did, actually." This made his father pause, his drink halfway to his mouth. He gave his son a serious look, took a swig of his beer before setting the glass down, looking from his wife to his son a couple of times, trying to gather all the information he could without asking. His wife looked at their son, her arms crossed- but she didn't look upset. She didn't seem pleased, of course, but she wasn't angry. His son, however, stared at the table with, what? Embarrassment?

"Is that so?" he asked quietly, waiting until his son looked up at him. "What made ya throw the first punch, son?"

His ginger haired boy shrugged helplessly, desperately trying not to show how uncomfortable he was. "Holland was stepping over the line. Someone had to do somethin'."

It was a shitty answer, and they all knew it. It wasn't like Kevin to be so evasive, and it surprised his father. Madeline, however, was less patient, and clicked her tongue disapprovingly.

"Of course he did- otherwise you never would have hit him. Tell him the real reason, Kevin."

The athlete shot his mother a glare that said _thanks a lot _before shrugging again. "He was messin' with the Marion kid. I thought he was gonn' beat on 'im, and the frickin' kid's a twig. He could have killed him. So I told em' to leave him alone, but he wouldn't listen. Well, I mean, he _did, _but he was a real jerk about it so I clocked him. Didn't think it would start a fight, but he was itchin for a reason to jump us."

Kevin's father cocked an eyebrow, taking another swig of his alcohol. "Marion? You mean the smart kid? Had those dopey friends that were always draggin him inta trouble?"

"That's the one."

"Haven't seen him in a while- you two buddies?"

Kevin scoffed. "Hardly. T he kid's afraid of his own shadow." Mentally, the athlete winced at his own words, but his mouth seemed to move on its own. For some reason, he really didn't want his parents to know he had become a bit attached to the nerd, though he couldn't fathom why. There was no reason for him to be ashamed of his weird friendship with the kid, but it felt almost…secret. Like, if anyone were to know, it would suddenly become less valid somehow.

Weird.

"Huh. Well, sounds like you were his knight in shining armor then," his father deadpanned, unimpressed with his son's rude comment.

The boy's face turned a couple shades darker, and he crossed his arms. He wasn't going to argue, however. His father was right. Dee wasn't as fragile as he had made him sound. The kid had been through enough, and here he was, making him sound like a wimp.

_Way to go, stupid. What's next? Get your foot out of your mouth, damnit!_

He sighed. "I just didn't wanna see Holland hurt the kid."

.

Now, while Kevin wasn't really into school (never had been, honestly), it had become quite easy to wake up earlier if it meant he could see Dee in the library every morning. He had made a point to keep an eye on the boy, if just to make sure no one was bugging him. At least, that's what he told himself as he tried to find the courage to go over to the reading boy and start a conversation. Dee never seemed to mind his company, always setting his study material aside and meeting the ginger's eyes with a warm smile, inviting him to sit with him. They would often spend their first periods together, talking and playing cards (turns out Dee always carried a pack with him- the kid was obsessed with solitaire).

Kevin tried not to laugh at the boy's serious nature with the playing cards, his hands working expertly too shuffle them perfectly, and his face set in a serious frown as he worked.

"Alright, let me teach you another game. It is purely about chance, not skill. So," he said, coyly, giving the athlete across from him a sly smile, "you might have a chance to win."

The ginger scoffed. "Oh, okay. I see how it is. Think you're some big shot, do ya? Playin' a little cards and suddenly you're God's gift to the world?"

He was a bit afraid he'd gone over the line with his brash outburst, but when Dee shrugged smugly, grinning as he handed Kevin his cards, he knew he was fine. The boy set out the cards all face down, two rows of five. Kevin followed his actions, waiting for Dee to instruct him how to play.

"Pick out a card, and try to replace it with the corresponding card. Kings are wild cards, Queens and Jacks are worthless. First one to turn all over their cards wins the round, and lose a card the next round. First person to dispose of all their cards wins. Understand?"

It was easier than it sounded, and soon both were down to three cards each. Kevin laughed at the little pout Dee made when he didn't get a card he liked, and it made Kevin think he'd be terrible at poker. Perhaps they would play it some day and find out.

"Kevin?"

"Hmm?"

"It's your turn."

The ginger shook himself from his staring, reaching for a card. It was a ten. Useless. He sneered slightly and threw it in the pile of useless cards.

"I'm no good at cards, and apparently I'm not lucky either."

"Luck is an illusion. One is lucky when they believe they are lucky," Dee said quietly, pulling out a card and flipping over two of his three cards. He handed Kevin his extra card, which was a two.

"So if I tell myself I'm lucky I'll help the team win state?" he asked offhandedly, partly curious and partly just trying to keep the conversation going. And really, could the genius believe that thinking affected luck?

"Precisely. What you don't understand is, that one believes they are lucky, they act like as a lucky person would- take risks, perform better and even attain goals they wouldn't have deemed possible before. Not to be confused with false confidence, of course. But a good attitude, even if founded on the illusion of luck, is very powerful. If your team were to believe they were quite lucky, but also not invincible, there is a very good chance you could win the state championship."

"That's nuts," Kevin said, quite taken aback.

"It is interesting, no?" Dee said simply, smiling as he won the round. He grabbed Kevin's losing pile and began to shuffle again, a small black bang bouncing as he did.

"Dee?"

"Yes?"

"You're a strange dude, you know that, right?"

The smaller boy straightened a bit, and upon seeing Kevin's teasing look, gave him a soft smile.

"Ah, Kevin, normalcy is but an illusion made by those who cannot understand the worth of their own uniqueness."

Kevin smiled, looking almost tickled. "This is why I like you."

.

.

.

.

**FINALLY. **

**Thoughts?**


	10. Chapter 10- Practice

I had entered the school early, trying to get to the library before the hallways got crowded. In addition, I wanted to actually get something done before Kevin interrupted my reading. He had made it a habit to visit me during my free period to chat. I didn't mind his presence- in fact, I had grown a bit fond of our greetings-but I was losing precious reading time, which I was now trying to make up for. It was weird not to have an excessive amount of time dedicated to the spoken word, and instead, time dedicated actually _practicing _it. I hadn't been this socially involved since...since my friends left. It was exciting, strange and utterly terrifying. I usually didn't know what to say! Fortunately, my ginger haired companion did not seem perturbed by my lack of social graces. In fact, he almost seemed encouraged by it.

He had become almost familiar to me lately. He spent most mornings in the library with me (unless he slept in, which happened more than he'd like to admit), walked me to class when he spotted me between periods, and offered me rides home if he didn't have practice. We were slowly moving from polite acquaintances to friends. It was humbling and entertaining to be around him- we were such different people, naturally.

And yet... he never stopped trying. He was persistent, honest, kind and surprisingly sweet, even when my defensive attitude didn't warrant it. He seemed absolutely determined to stick near me. At first, I thought it was purely because he pitied me. Perhaps, deep down, that _was _his original motive, but after some time it changed. He asked less and less about my attacks and didn't seem nearly as afraid for me when he was around me. It was relieving for both of us, I'm sure.

As we both adjusted to our new found bond, I felt I was really starting see the boy's true character. It wasn't hard to see he was well liked, confident and hard working, but there were other things there, as well. For instance, he was very family oriented. I truly fear for anyone who would speak ill towards his parents. Which was another thing. I had always seen him as one looking for a fight, but whenever he told me about them, it was never the athlete who initiated the violence. He was, of course, always willing to_ finish_ them, however.

There were also sides I would never have guessed even existed. While he was not entirely an airhead, he was apathetic about schoolwork, claiming it bored him to tears. I couldn't understand it, but he insisted that going to high school was worse than prison itself, showing off his legendary stubbornness. He was willing to admit defeat in a fight to save himself from harm, but there was little that he wouldn't debate verbally to the death. While his close mindedness was something I struggled to accept, I was reassured in the fact that he did in fact _think _about things before making up his mind about it.

He was not complicated, exactly. No, he was really quite simple to understand. But it was more than I had originally thought.

The only part of him I didn't understand was his connection to a person such as myself. I hated to admit it, but he wasn't doing himself any favors by being around me. I was really quite comfortable knowing that I was far from popular, but I hadn't ever seen the boy without a posse of friends that he held close. That, and we didn't have much in common. He was physically driven, spoke with loud conviction, seemingly fearless, and I was...

Well, me.

.

It wasn't long before the first bell rang, and Kevin popped his head into the library hesitantly. I don't think he realized I could see him out of the corner of my eye even while I was reading. He often would pause just outside the door and stare for a moment, as if he were spying on me or trying to find an excuse to enter the room. I never looked up, as my curiosity begged me to let him enter at his own risk. He always did, losing his somewhat bashful attitude and going back to his open, grinning self.

"Yo, Dee."

I looked up, as if I had just noticed him. "Salutations, Kevin! How are you?"

"I'm good. Stayed up pretty late doin' that paper for Richard's, though. I'm beat. How're you?"

"Splendid. I finished my paper last week, however."

"Damn, that's impressive! What did you write about?"

"Lack of real world physics in the mainstream media."

"Huh?"

"...stunts, Kevin. In movies? Most are impossible, or at least, highly unlikely."

"You're kidding- you mean I can't go pick up a car with my bare hands?" he asked, winking. I rolled my eyes, smiling. Kevin was constantly sarcastic and teasing, and while it was a little hard to adjust to, I found it a bit endearing.

"No, I'm afraid not even _you _would be able to pull such a feat, but I wouldn't mind watching you try, of course."

The boy sat unceremoniously, leaning on the table with his chin propped up in his palm, shaking his head slowly. "O ye of little faith. I'm hurt, Dee. Just devastated," he said with an amused grin on his face.

"You'll recover soon enough, I'm sure."

"Ouch. Merciless today, aren't we?"

I simply shrugged. I reached over to get inside my bag for my deck of cards- I had looked up a few new games the night before that I wanted to try with him. His voice stopped me, however.

"Uh hey, listen. I was hoping you could help me out with something today. I don't know who else to ask."

I straightened, giving him a wary look. What could he possibly want from me? "How can I be of assistance?"

"It's...ugh," he sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes in embarrassment. "It's so stupid. Really, it just...man. Okay. I was just thinking about what you said the other day. About luck and stuff? I think the team you could really use some of that positive thinking stuff. Is there any way you could, I dunno, help me do that? I have no idea what to say or who needs to hear it. Some of the guys are super cocky but some are still kinda wimpy and don't speak up much. I just...I don't know. You're good with people. I'm not."

I opened my mouth to respond, then shut it again, thinking. The last part of his little speech really got me. What on earth was he talking about? People loved him- I would know, I had seen it! I saw it every single day- the way he walked the halls with confidence as dozens of people greeted him warmly, the smooth way he got himself out of trouble, his success in the sports teams...

"I-wait. I don't understand. You would like me help you to encourage the baseball team by...what?"

"Watching, I guess. Figuring out who needs what. You're really good at that."

"I am?"

"Sure! You always notice things that no one else does."

"I do?"

"Yeah, man, geez. Don't believe me? Here- I'll prove it. Uh, lemme think..." he tilted his chair onto the back two legs, putting his hands behind his head. I hated when he did that- it was bad for the chair and his shirts always rode up and caught my attention. Staring was incredibly rude.

"Oh! Remember when Eddy and I got into that huge fight in eighth grade? He was calling me a spoiled brat, but you totally shot him down?"

Boy did I. I hadn't meant to defend Kevin, as he was at the time, my enemy, but I couldn't help myself. We had been stopped in the hallway by Kevin and his friend Gray, who then made jokes about our childish, awkward appearance- not that they were wrong, really. I had outgrown almost everything I owned, Eddy had became a fan of clothes much too big for him, and Ed hardly washed.

But Eddy's response was worse.

_"At least we're not pretentious dick heads! You rich, privileged son of bitches probably don't even sleep without getting tucked in to bed by your personal servants! You think you're so cool- does your mommy drive you to school? Does she carry you to the front steps so you don't get your fancy stuff dirty? You cocky bastards!"_

I had responded without thinking. If we had been in private it wouldn't even have been so bad, but...

_I scoffed slightly, catching the attention of those around me before anyone else could speak up. I stared at my hands and spoke quietly and clearly._

_"Hardly, Eddy. The Barrs live in a modest home. His father is often absent at his job, which I doubt he would if their family was especially wealthy. And look at their shoes. Yes, they are worn, but that could be from practice. But there are burs stuck in both of their shoelaces, which only come from the field behind the school. There isn't a drop off for cars on that side, so it can only be assumed they walked here from their houses. In addition, they are both wearing hand me downs, not 'fancy' clothing. You can tell because Kevin's shirt has a black logo on the front, which was only a popular for that company about twenty years ago, meaning he probably got the shirt from his father or some other family member. Mr. O'Conner is wearing a jacket he's worn almost daily for years. But notice the stains on the hood lining? They are likely temporary hair dye- something that Mr. O'Conner does not use, at least not to my knowledge. Also, the jacket sits a little snugly on his shoulders, which may imply it was made for a woman. I'm assuming that he inherited the jacket from a sister- perhaps one that moved away when he was younger. You cannot draw conclusions on your emotions alone- you need to look at the facts first."_

After my lengthy and detailed analysis, my face went red with embarrassment for having known so much. It was a time when I was very jealous of those with a lot of friends- so I watched them often. I was curious as to what made them so appealing to everyone else. In time, as well, I had learned a thing or two about who I was watching in a more personal way.

Who were then watching _me, _disgust, curiosity and surprise written across their faces. Eddy was so furious he didn't even speak- he just grabbed the tallest of our trio and stomped away, leaving me alone, terrified, with the two boys. Before I could defend myself Gray had grabbed my collar and shoved me against a locker, sneering down at me. I remembered the feeling of the cold metal, the books falling from my hands and my knees knocking below me.

_"You creep. You think it's cool when you spy on us? You think you're so smart. You arrogant bitch."_ He looked like he very much like he wanted to hit me, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him._ "C'mon dude, we're going to be late for lunch. He ain't worth it."_ Gray had let go, kicking my books as he walked away. Kevin looked back once as I stood there, too frightened to move. He closed his eyes and shook his head a bit before turning and walking away.

It wasn't a fond memory of mine, and I shuddered.

"Yes. Yes, I remember that," I said quietly. "what about it?"

"You knew _everything, _man!"

"I guess," I said flippantly.

"C'mon, man. You're the smartest person I know."

"That's ridiculous," I retorted. "Most of our teachers have years of experience, thus far exceeding my own intelligence."

"Okay, fine. Smartest person I can _stand." _

That made the corners of my lip turn up. He wasn't exactly saying he considered me a friend, but it seemed close enough. The ginger haired boy wasn't very big on affection, and I knew that, so it always seemed to special to me if he showed it.

"I'm not sure that I would really be that effective," I said, shrugging. "But I wouldn't mind giving it a try."

Kevin's fallen expression quickly became bright again, and he slapped the table with his palm as his chair righted itself. "Awesome! Can you come to practice today? It would be until five-ish."

"Alright."

"Sweet! Just come and watch on the bleachers. I'm not gonna tell the guys or anything, cuz then they'll act stupid just to mess with ya. Sound good?"

"Yes, that's agreeable. I would like to stay as far away from their attention as possible, if that's okay."

The athlete's face became a bit cautious, and he leaned forward a little. "Sure thing, dude, but listen. The guys... they can be pretty stupid sometimes, but they're nothing to be afraid of, yknow? They aren't gonna do anything, trust me."

Something in my chest froze, and I looked away, setting my mouth into a thin line.

_Oh yes they would. We both know it's possible. It's happened before- and you were one of them. _

_How can I trust you?_

_._

Later that afternoon, my unsettling thoughts still hadn't ceased, and I was growing increasingly anxious. I had no real reason to be afraid- but I couldn't help it. His words had brought up a handful of painful memories, ones I wasn't ready to face just then. I continually rubbed my thumbs against my palms, my sleeves, and my books, trying to find comfort in the action. It helped...a little.

When school ended I stalled, slowly grabbing my things and waiting in the restroom (while washing my hands repeatedly) for the hallways to clear. After that, I went out the back door to the baseball field, where the team was. They were currently running, and I guessed it was because they were warming up. A large man who I assumed was the coach was yelling out orders, telling so-and-so to go faster, or for so-and-so to stop 'prancing like a little girl'.

I cringed, wondering what I had gotten myself into.

I climbed the bleachers as quietly as possible, sitting down and clinging to my messenger bag which was currently on my lap. There were probably twenty boys on the team, some dressed in the jersey white and red, others dressed in regular workout clothes. I quickly found Kevin, who sported a tight fitting green athletic shirt and black basketball shorts, his red hat situated on his head backwards, as always. When he caught my eye he smiled a bit wider, nodding slightly. Though it was discreet the boy next to him noticed and looked back at me, giving me a confused look and turning back to Kevin with wild hand gestures. Kevin just laughed and ran faster.

After they warmed up the coach had them break into groups and practice different things- like batting, catching, running and tagging someone out. It was chaotic but fun looking, and I was vastly entertained by it. I turned out that Kevin was could run the bases quickly and could throw well, but he wasn't the best at catching. Long distance catching was easier for him, but short distance usually ended with him getting hit by the ball in the chest. It was peculiar.

It made me wonder if his reflexes were off, somehow. Normally he seemed normal in his reaction time, but the short distance throws were much faster than that.

Peculiar indeed.

I also noticed a sort of pattern. When two boys worked together they would start off by insulting each other- sizing each other up, most of the time. Then they would work for a period of time- hardly any words passing between them, both sweating and working hard...then it would end. At some point the boys would being to slack off a bit, not exactly as playful as before, but more subdued. Either they were easily distracted, or they didn't have high endurance stamina.

All too soon it was over, and the boys began shuffling towards the building to shower and change. I considered staying on the bleachers and wait for Kevin to come back out, but he motioned for me to follow him, waiting for me at the bottom of the bleachers. I stood hesitantly, climbing down to where he was. He was slightly out of breath and sweat beaded his forehead and upper lip, but he gave me an energetic smile.

"Hey there," he said. I nodded in response, not trusting myself to speak.

"So I'm gonna get ready- it shouldn't take long. But you don't wanna go in the locker room...it's disgusting. You can wait out here or in the hallway, if ya want."

"I'll just stay out here, if it's all the same."

"Okay. I'll be quick, okay?"

With that he jogged away, catching up to his teammates and entering the back of the building. I perched on the edge of the seat closest to me, watching as the clouds floated lazily above me, amid the sky that was turning a pinkish color from the sun that was starting to set. It was a warm spring afternoon, but it was going to get a bit cooler as the sun started to disappear. A slight warm breeze tickled the hair on my face, and I crinkled my nose, shaking the hair away from me.

It was only a minute or two that I realized something was off. I desperately tried to convince myself that it wasn't happening- that I was fine, but it didn't work.

My fingers were already numb and I could barely keep myself from shaking. My head began to spin and I half stood, half fell off my chair. As the dread took over my body, my bag looped awkwardly around my arm and I clutched my hands to my chest, trying to focus on something, _anything_, coherent.

_Ohdear, oh good heavens no, nope nope, I need to leave, I need to leave, I need to leave, get out...help, help, someone, Kevin help..._

_Kevin. _

I stumbled towards the school, gasping in shallow breaths of painful oxygen.

Once I made it shoved the door open, feeling tears drip from my cheeks as I slipped slightly on the wet tile. I tried to regain my footing, shutting my eyes tightly. It was hot, muggy, and loud. My head pounded as I tried to vault myself forward, trying to find...what?

_Something._

_Safety._

_Somethi-_

_Comfort,_ _I'm okay, I'm okay!_

_I need I'm not I need I need I'm stuck I can't_

_Someone_

_Someone_

_Kevin_

_Help_

_Kevin_

_Kevin_

"Ke-Kev.." I stuttered, running into people and bouncing off lockers. There was noise, lots of it. It felt like people were yelling in my ear or screaming or things were breaking and doors were slamming and it was so loud, too loud, very loud, too loud _too loud-_

I hit the floor with my knees and slumped onto the tile, unconscious.

.

"Kevin! Shit, dude- KEV! Get in here, man!" Spencer yelled, angry and afraid. He'd just been getting his clothes from the locker when one of the nerd kids had run into him- barreled him, really- muttering something under his breath and sobbing. Spencer had tried to talk to him, but the boy shrugged him off, walking forward a few more steps before calling out the ginger's name and passing out on the hard floor, hitting his head pretty good. It was at that point that Spencer realized just how serious the situation was.

After yelling for someone to get Barr, he crouched on the floor, trying to see if the thin kid was still alive. His breathing was quick and shallow, sounding harsh and broken. His hands were dirty and scraped up, and there was a cut on his cheek that was dripping onto the floor. His eyes were so sunken and wrung with black circles he looked like he had been beaten- maybe he had.

"Shit. Shithshitshit. Kevin! C'mon, man!" he yelled, waiting only a moment before a head of ginger hair poked into the room, looking angry.

"What the fuck, dude I- wait. Dee?" the boy, dressed in only a pair of shorts and flip flops, scrambled into the room, falling next to Spencer and shoving him lightly.

"What'd you do to him, man?!"

"Nothing! He came in here, freaking out and then just fainted! I didn't even touch him- he ran into _me!"_

"Fuck. Fuck, okay. Here, back up," Kevin ordered, moving so that he could wrap his arms around the thin boy's shoulders and lift him into a sitting position. Blood dripped from the boy's cheek bone to his neck, a two inch long laceration just under his eye looking like a battle wound on his pale skin. Kevin laid the boy's head onto his shoulder, shifting so that he could pick the boy up slowly and without jolting him too much, looping an arm underneath the boy's knees and carrying him bridal style.

"Spenc- get the first aid kit. Don't bug anyone about it- if he wakes up to a crowd, he'll just pass out again. got it?"

The spooked freshman quickly agreed and ran for the box, leaving the athlete alone with the frail boy. I twas only a minute or two before the younger boy returned, with a small white box in his hands.

"Set in on the bench. Thanks man. I got it form here. He's fine- I think he got a concussion and was spooked or something. I'll make sure he gets home okay. Thanks for your help, though. See you tomorrow?"

The younger boy nodded, obviously not wanting to leave but receiving Kevin's hints that he was not welcome. He went back to the shower room without a word. Kevin moved so that he could reach the box, pulling the boy into his lap. Balancing the boy's head on his shoulder he opened the box with one hand, pulling out a roll of gauze and awkwardly tearing off a piece that he carefully pressed against the boy's cheek to stop the bleeding.

"Man. I can't take you anywhere," the boy muttered with a smirk, noticing that the boy's breathing had become more even and more deep, causing Kevin to assume that his panic attack was officially over. He continued to press the cloth to the boy's face until it was no longer bleeding freely, sticking a small bandage on the wound.

"There. All better."

Not sure what else to do, Kevin closed up the kit and readjusted the boy in his lap into a more comfortable position, waiting for him to wake up. He didn't have to wait long, and not five minutes later the raven haired youth stirred, instinctively cuddling closer to the warm body currently holding him. It was Kevin's husky laugh that really started to wake him up, and it was only a few moments later that he realized who he was snuggling against. He blinked, sleepily detaching himself confusedly.

"What are you..?"

"Don't worry, you're fine. You passed out a few minutes ago. Guess you were in the middle of an attack and came looking for me in the locker room, but you crashed and hit the floor. You were only out for twenty minutes, tops."

The thin boy's face paled slightly, and he groaned. "Despicable," he muttered groggily, trying to move out from where he was currently sitting.

"You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Embarrassed is all, I assure you. I'm very sorry I caused so much trouble."

"Whatever, dude. You're no trouble. I guess I shouldn't have left ya on your own."

"Perhaps."

Kevin shifted, moving out from underneath the other boy, pulling his dark haired companion stand slowly, catching him when the thin boy stumbled. He scooped up the boy's bag which had been lying close by and slung it onto his shoulder, taking the smaller boy's arm around his neck to help him walk.

"There ya go. Let's go," the athlete muttered, moving back towards the locker room and stashing the kit before grabbing his bag and heading back out for his bike. Once there Dee leaned against the bike as Kevin pulled on a hoodie and put a helmet on the other teen, climbing on and ushering his companion on the seat behind him.

The ride back was smooth, since Dee was still a bit disoriented, and they made it back to their cul de sac unharmed. Slinging the boy's arms around his shoulder once again, Kevin helped the boy into his home, discarding his bag and keys on the floor near the door. He let go of the raven haired teen, letting the boy find his footing and stand on his own. Dee rubbed a hand over his tired eyes and sighed, still feeling incredibly humiliated.

"Thank you," he said quietly, staring at the floor.

"Yeah, no problem, dude. You sure you're okay?"

"Oh yes, nothing to worry about here."

"Right," Kevin said, obviously not believing it. "If you need anything, or whatever, I'm across the street, yknow?"

"That's quite alright, really, I don't-"

"I know you don't," the athlete interjected, his voice firm but kind. "You hate having people help you. I get it, man. Just..be careful, okay?"

The genius nodded. "I don't deserve your kindness," he muttered, more to himself than to the taller boy. Kevin must have heard it however, because he paused, looking at the young boy with a blank, open look.

"D'you really believe that?" he asked, his voice carefully even.

"No? Well, no, maybe... I don't know."

The jock waited for the raven haired boy to continue. When he didn't, he nodded to him.

"But...?" he prompted, bending down a bit so that the shorter boy would have to meet his gaze.

"But you shouldn't have to do it. You don't owe me anything, and you have far more imporant things to take care of. And I-I don't..."

"Don't what?"

Dee closed his eyes. "I don't want to be a burden."

"Well then its a good thing you're not, isn't it?" the jock asked, smirking. "You really gotta stop worrying about it. I mean, yeah, I can see where you're comin' from, but dude... I wouldn't be helpin' if I didn't wanna. It ain't your fault you get attacks, so it ain't your fault you need help sometimes. And...I mean, it's kinda cool you trust me. I know there probably aren't a ton of people you trust, huh?"

The thin boy looked up and shook his head. He couldn't think of _anyone _that he trusted fully. That had been Eddy's position. Ultimate confidante. But he was long gone.

"Exactly. So don't worry, man. Okay?"

"Okay," his companion answered sheepishly.

The redhead gave him a wry smirk and opened his arms, inviting the stiff boy into his embrace. Dee smiled and stepped into his arms, hugging him briefly. He then stepped back, shutting his eyes and flinching when Kevin put a hand on his beanie and rubbed it affectionately.

"See you around, nerd."

"Goodbye, Kevin."


	11. Chapter 11- Intimidation

**DEE'S POINT OF VIEW**

It was no small task to get out of bed. In fact, it had become increasingly difficult just to open my eyes in the morning. If I let my eyes crack open it was like admitting defeat- it meant morning, and morning meant that I could no longer hide in my subconscious. It meant the blinding light of the sun, it meant the noise of being awake, it meant the crushing responsibilities I could not hide from. It also meant that I was at risk of falling prey to my anxiety at any moment. I could go all day without a problem, or feel like I was being suffocated for as long as I was awake. Only the merciful numbness of sleep could keep me safe, it seemed, and I was very tempted to stay in it's warm embrace.

But now I was awake, and I needed to get up.

I dragged my sore body out of my bed and stumbled down the stairs, making sure not to look in the hallway mirror when my reflection came into view. No use seeing what I already knew what was there- sunken cheeks, dull eyes and disheveled hair that fell in strange curls around my face and neck.

After I entered the cool kitchen, I pulled my hair back into a small ponytail and began to make myself breakfast. While I had always tried to eat healthily and enjoyed cooking, I had lost all motivation to do so recently and usually cooked oatmeal just to say I had eaten. I never finished it, and I felt horrible for wasting food, but my stomach was non-compliant. I didn't even bother trying to trying to force myself to eat some sort of fruit- I knew I'd be sick if I did. Instead, I quickly and somewhat clumsily headed to the restroom to shower and dress myself for the upcoming day. I pulled on some semi-skinny jeans and a comfortable sweater, combing out my dripping black curls before tucking them inside my hat. I pulled on my black loafers and grabbed all my supplies, heading outside without a word.

It was a cool, albeit sunny morning. And while the sunshine usually helped my submissive mood, it did little to comfort me today. It seemed I was quite effectively stuck in my melancholy state and I had absolutely no idea how to get out of it. It wasn't like I had much to be sad about at present...things had gone smoothly the past couple of days and I hadn't made a fool of myself in any major way. Regardless, I couldn't shake the heavy feeling in my chest. I was just so...

_Tired._

That was the only way to describe it. Surely, my vast love of vocabulary could produce a more intellectual word for the situation, but no, tired was what fit. It was a bland, over used, cliché, and somewhat relative word. Thus it made perfect sense.

I _felt _bland, over used, cliché and relative.

I couldn't understand my own feelings. I had never been this complacent or unmotivated in my life! I had never struggled getting out of bed or eating or doing my work or caring or cleaning or being alone. I've never been so out of body. I've never been so lonely. I've never been so afraid and yet so careless. I've never been so...

Tired.

"Enough. Enough, Eddward. No more thinking. No more negativity," I chastised myself, shaking my head. "This will get you nowhere."

"What's that? You say something?"

I snapped my head up to see a couple of football players turned around to look at me skeptively. I felt my face heat up in mortification.

"My apologies. I was talking to myself. I didn't mean to be overheard."

"Fuckin weirdo," one muttered. The other, a young boy named Spencer, I believe, whapped his companion on the shoulder. "Dude, let him be. I've heard you sing in the locker room before."

The first boy had looked annoyed, but at Spencer's comment, cracked a grin. "I did not!" They walked away, bantering and playfully shoving each other. I sighed in relief and kept walking. I really needed to watch myself. I had managed to keep my problems to myself for the most part, and I intended to keep it that way. The last thing I needed was to attract unwanted attention.

I kicked a pebble, frustrated._ People couldn't know. Of course they couldn't. They didn't want to. They couldn't help. Whether they meant to or not, they would treat me differently. They would hate me or blame me or make fun of me or treat me like an infant or tell the world or leave in fear of one of us getting hurt or freak out or-_

Suddenly something heavy fell on my back, causing me to topple, bringing both me and whatever hit me on the ground with an _oomf._

"Shit, ow, crap" a voice said, their body twisted strangely with mine on the concrete. "I swear I didn't mean to do that."

I rolled away slightly, moving out from underneath them, holding my aching shoulder and ribs that broke my fall. Kevin scrambled to his feet beside me, sporting a scraped cheek and missing hat.

"Kevin? What was _that?" _I demanded, pain ebbing from one half of my body. He grabbed his discarded hat and threw it on his head before turning back to me with a cautious grimace.

"Sorry! I didn't mean to run into ya. I just saw you and I was trying to surprise you, but I guess I got a little too excited. Im sorry I tackled you," he said, trying not to laugh.

"What's so funny?"

He laughed aloud, shaking his head. "Your face was priceless, man. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it was just... ah man, it was perfect."

I crossed my arms across my chest, giving him a skeptical look. "Clearly. Was there something you needed?"

"Huh? No, of course no- wait, nope, just kidding. I uh, actually... I gotta ask ya something."

"Oh? What do you wish to ask me of?"

"See, it's stupid really, and it's totally okay if you don't wanna, I just thought I should ask. Thing is, my Ma knows about the fight- with Holland, remember?- and I guess she's worried about ya or whatever. She wants me to invite you to dinner tonight, or this week or something. If you want."

"Your mother knows about what happened at the skateboarding park? Why would she worry about me? I was barely involved..."

"Well, she knows the Holland kids. She knows they can be... jerks. You didn't fight or nothing...but it was directed towards you. She wants to make sure you're okay. You know...Mom stuff."

I shook my head slowly. I wouldn't have known.

"I'm flattered, truly, but I couldn't impose on such important family events. It would be incredibly rude of me."

"Dude. What? We have stupid dinner every night! It would be, like, less stupid if you were there. I mean, I can't make you, but you really should. She'll give both of us trouble if you say no."

"I...Very well. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble."

Freckled arms found their way around me, and Kevin grinned as he picked me up and hugged me briefly before setting me down. "Yes! Awesome. Ma's going to be thrilled. Here, how about after school you meet me up front and we can walk to my house together. Yeah?"

I righted my hat and rubbed my thumbs together, looking at him sheepishly. "Yes, alright. I do hope I havent caused too much distress. I will apologize profusely for that."

A hand came down atop my head and the ginger boy bent down to be eye level with me, his expression serious enough to make ,y heart beat a bit faster in anticipation. His dark eyes stared directly into mine.

"I get you're all polite and whatnot, but I won't put up with you blaming yourself for any a' this shit. What Holland did was not your fault, you get me? And my mother worrying about you isn't a bad thing. She's a mom, its what she does. Don't apologize, just... I dunno, be happy so she doesn't have to worry."

I smiled weakly. He had no idea how badly I wished I could promise that.

He turned back, squinting in the sunlight. "C'mon. We'll be late for our library sesh if we dont get a move on," he said, tugging on my bag's strap. I allowed him to direct me toward the school. We walked towards the old building without another word, the silence thick but comfortable. When we were together I felt like we had things we should talk about, but chose not to. Like my attacks, like his kindness and like the time I punched him. I wanted to tell him not to worry, to thank him and to tell him how sorry I was.

But something told me he already knew. I was a pretty open book by nature, and he seemed observant enough to pick up the clues I knew I was sending. He had quickly adapted to my strange habits and personality, though he never brought it up. It seemed almost as of his warm, caring personality was unconditional, despite the fact that I had seen him angry many times before.

Which was a bit confusing, honestly. He could change from kind to cold in seconds, like a light switch. I was assuming it had a bit to do with the fact that he was confrontational and protective like his father, but polite and generally well-meaning like his mother. It was a rather interesting set of characteristics, ones I had yet to adapt to fully.

Once we entered the library Kevin plopped into his favorite chair, in the back of the room facing the only chair in the library that sat in a corner and faced everything else. I always sat in the corner. It was the only chair I could stand. Every other seat meant that part of the room was to your back, and the vulnerability of the unknown was too much for me. I had disclosed this information to the ginger once and he shrugged, saying he could watch my back if needed, but continued to sit across from the chair, allowing me to continue my comforting ritual.

We sat and I pulled out my deck of cards, shuffling them for the fifth time that mornimg. One could never be too sure, after all!

"What's your mother's name again?" I asked, not wanting to humiliate myself later.

"Uh... Renae. But call her Mama Barr. That's what everyone calls her. She hates being called Mrs. Barr, cuz she's weird and think it only belongs on mail or in formal stuff."

Seeing my face he chuckled, putting his hands up defensively. "Don't look at me, okay? Her rules. She probably wouldn't freak if you called her ma'am..."

I huffed, dispersing the cards. "Fair enough. I shall do that, then."

"Uh, cool. Hey, now that I'm thinking about it, don't worry about her. She seems kinda tough but that's just her personality. She's a really awesome lady, she just acts all business. I'm pretty she'll soften up around ya cuz she likes ya, but in case she acts kinda cold, don't worry, okay?"

Kevin had no reason to warn me. When I stepped through the door there she was, a floral apron tied over her business suit, her hair in an intricate ponytail and her stance straight as a pencil. When her eyes fell on me her green irises softened and she put her hands on my shoulders with a comforting firmness.

"Hello, Eddward. I'm very happy to see you again," she said warmly, a relaxed smile on her face.

"Thank you ma'am. I'm very grateful for your hospitality."

Satisfied, she nodded, motioning for both of us to put our backpacks by the door and come into kitchen. Kevin placed a hand onto the small of my back, directing me. We entered a clean, but well lived-in kitchen. After sitting down, Kevin's mother asked her son to give a prayer before we ate.

It was a pleasant night. True to Kevin's word his mother was worried about my well being, and expressed herself during dinner. Kevin had stepped out a moment to use the restroom, giving her the opportunity to speak with me privately.

"I'm sorry about the Holland boy," she said bluntly, her eyes locked on mine. I broke the gaze, looking down at my hands.

"It wasn't as bad as it may have seemed."

"But-?"

I snapped my head up, confused. "Excuse me?"

"There's something else bothering you."

"I don't-"

"Eddward, please. I have enough experience to know when someone is lying to me. If there's something you need to say, please do." her face was firm, but concerned. I wondered if that was a regular expression for mother's to have. My own mother did not show that level of emotion. She was far more analytical. I was used to that. This was...strange. Even so, I felt compelled to answer her the best I could. I took a deep breath, gripping my upper arms to keep my hands from shaking.

"I'm almost used to it by now, really. I can't say that it's something I enjoy in any way, and honestly, if I could have silence, I would. But, honestly, I don't...I'm not...I don't need anyone's help. I don't. I appreciate your son's company- he is a very kind person- but I don't need him to protect me."

"Of course you don't," she said, as if the mere suggestion was ridiculous. "The problem, Eddward, isn't that you _can't _defend yourself. Rather, you _won't._"

I scoffed slightly, throwing my hands up a bit. "I'm not going to fight anyone, if that's what you're implying."

She clicked her tongue. "I said you won't defend yourself, not that you won't hit someone."

"Is there a difference?"

"You can answer that, I'm sure," she said quickly, uncrossing her legs and leaning across the table to set a hand over mine. "You should not be treated the way you do. It doesn't matter if you're used to it- it still hurts, doesn't it? But I know it can be very difficult to do anything about it. Maybe even impossible at times. But, Eddward, honey, you're tired. I can see that- you're very tired. Kevin, even if he doesn't know it, he sees it as well. He doesn't want to make you feel powerless, he just wants to make sure you're alright. Can you understand that? He cares about people. He cares about you. You don't need his help. You're capable, and you know it. Kevin just wants to make sure that if you won't, someone _will. _There's nothing wrong with that, and there's nothing wrong with you."

At this point I was struggling to maintain my composure. I hadn't even seen this woman in years, and here she was, pulling out every thought and emotion I'd had about the situation. The result of her observations made me want to weep for reasons I couldn't quite understand. Part of me knew it was relief- someone actually knew what I was going through.

I swallowed thickly and looked down at our hands, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. "Thank you," I squeaked out, my voice hitching at the end.

"Of course," she said in a hushed voice. "I know that sometimes it can be overwhelming at your age, especially with all that you're going through. But you're always, always welcome here if you need. Even if you don't want to talk or do anything- you've got a place here. Alright?"

I simply nodded.

Kevin came back and I did my best to remain as cheerful as I could, acting as if nothing had happened. After about another hour of conversation Kevin walked me home, the sky still light though the sun had just gone down.

"You're mother is lovely," I said, my hands folded behind my back.

"Yeah, she's cool, huh? Hope she didn't scare ya too much."

"Hardly! You're far more intimidating," I teased, bumping him with my shoulder. He grinned wickedly, bumping me back.

"Yeah, I'm real scary."

"You can be," I shrugged, half teasing, half telling the truth. "When you're angry."

"Nah. I'm just good at pretending I'm not scared," he said back. I couldn't tell if he was serious or not. We had reached my porch. I turned to him, smiling as best as my tired face would allow.

"Thank you very much for tonight. It was delightful."

"Yeah, no problem, man. If I'm not too scary we can do it again."

With that, he pulled me into another hug, this time much more cautiously. When I let go, I gave him a real smile.

"Goodnight, my friend."

"Night Dee. See ya tomorrow."

.

.

.

**I am so sorry about the wait. I finished as quickly as I could.**

**Thoughts? I'm seriously THIS CLOSE to getting to the ~fun~ stuff.**

**Tell me what you think!**


	12. Chapter 12- MANicures

KEVIN'S POINT OF VIEW

"Sooo…how's Dee?"

I looked up from the bowl of dough I was mixing to Nazz's pretty face, set into a curious but guarded expression.

"I dunno…good, I guess?"

"Y'all have spent a lot of time together lately. Your mom told me he came over for dinner the other day."

"Don't look at me- that was her idea."

"So you didn't want him there?"

"Huh? No, I did, it was just a little weird, yknow?"

"Why?"

"I don't know- it was just a little weird. Not like, in a bad way or anything, I just… I guess I'm not used to having people over and he's not used to being invited over."

"You have friends here all the time!"

"Yeah, but it's different! Like, like…" I looked around, trying to think of something to compare the situation to, my eyes falling on my friend's sparkly fingers.

"Like your nails. Sometimes they look like that- colored and sparkly, right? But sometimes you get those plastic fake ones. You still did your nails, just differently. And when you get the fake ones you have a hard time doing things because they're too big or whatever. Sort of like that."

The drill team's face was one of disbelief and amusement. "Dude," she said with sly grin "that is the gayest thing I have ever hear you say in my life."

"_Excuse me?"_

She blinked, throwing her hands up in mock defense as she continued to grin wickedly. "Woah, chill, I was kidding! But really though, that was pretty freakin' gay."

"Since when is knowing about your dumb nails gay?"

"Since that's super girly? You know… gay dude are usually really feminine and into fashion and stuff. They talk weird and do this," she explained, flipping her hands around with limp wrists. I scowled, crossing my arms against my chest.

"That's totally not true, Nazz, and you know it," I said sternly, starting to get pissed off.

She simply shrugged, reaching into my bowl to grab some of the cookie dough.

"All stereotypes are founded on truth, right?"

"No, not really."

"Why are you freaking out?" she asked, raising an eyebrow in question. "Why do you even care? Are you trying to tell me something?"

"What? No! I'm just saying you can't say that every gay dude is girly. That's stupid."

"Whatever," she conceded, shrugging. I hated it, but she had a point. What did I care? Not like she was offending me, or anyone I knew for that matter. As far as I could tell, no dudes I talked to were gay. So why _did _I care?

_"I'm not feminine."_

The words rang in my head. I remembered Dee's flustered expression as he pulled his hat down further onto his head, trying to hide the shiny black hair I had never truly seen before. He had been mostly embarrassed, but he had been pretty defensive too. The kid really didn't like people seeing his hair because it scared him to think people thought less of him for it. While I found it kinda silly that he was freaking out, now I understood.

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After Nazz left (we finished baking the cookies for her drill meet and she left with them for the practice), I left the house, heading for the dark haired boy's place. I didn't know why I felt the need to go over there, but I was bored and the words from earlier wouldn't stop repeating themselves in my head. When I got to his door I knocked a couple of times, shoving my hands into my pockets casually. It wasn't ten seconds before the door opened slowly and a pale face poked around the corner.

"Well hello," he said blankly, obviously not expecting my presence. He didn't seem to mind I was there, as he relaxed his posture and came from around the door a bit more.

"Hey Dee. How ya doin?" I asked, smirking.

"I am doing well, thank you. How are you?" he asked, still looking a bit lost.

"Good. Hey, you doin' anything right now? I thought we could hang for a little while before I have to go to practice."

At this his face lit up a bit, and he opened the door a bit more. "Certainly! Come in," he ushered, stepping back. Only then did I notice what he was wearing. He had on a sweater quite a bit bigger than him- the sleeves went past his fingertips. He also had on basketball shorts- something I never thought I'd see. Then it hit me: these were probably his pajamas.

"Yo, Dee, did I wake you up?"

He spun around, pulling his hat a little farther on his head. "No, no of course not. I just haven't changed out of my sleeping clothes yet. I hope you don't mind," he said, his eyes downcast and his cheeks bright red.

"Nah! I was just wondering."

We walked into his living room where a couple of sofas were, but I noticed there was no TV. I had never seen a house that didn't have the familiar little box- how did he survive?

Dee motioned for me to sit next to him on one of the couches, and I obliged. He crossed his legs and sat facing me, holding his covered hands on his knees.

"I uh- well, I don't know what to do," he blurted, looking helpless. "I'm not used to company."

"Wanna play twenty questions?"

"What's that?"

I explained the game to him (he got it pretty fast, but I expected that) we took turns playing. Turns out he was pretty decent at asking questions that would give what I was thinking away. I also found out the kid knew next to nothing about pop culture, though he knew music references pretty damn well. We then changed to would you rather, which got pretty funny.

"Would you rather…wear the color yellow for the rest of your life, or have to speak pig latin?"

"Oh, definitely speak pig latin. I think I would be driven mad if I wore nothing but yellow…that's incredibly vain, isn't it?"

"Nah, that's normal, dude!"

"If you say so. Would you rather have to write poetry for a living or be homeless?"

"Oh man. Probably be homeless. I can't stand poetry and I'm sure I'd be terrible. I'd look good as a hobo anyways. Hmm… would you rather live in the woods or on the beach?"

"The woods."

"Same! Okay, your turn."

"Would you rather change your name or your hair color?"

"Psh. My hair color. I like my name. If I changed the color of my hair, people would stop telling me I'm 'soulless'. That gets so annoying. Hell, my name's so cool I'll name my first child_ Kevin junior_!"

"Would you really?"

The jock laughed, shrugging. "Probably not. Still an awesome name, though. Okay, would you rather…eat a bug or have to be blind for a day?"

"Eat a bug. Escargot isn't that bad, really. I couldn't accomplish much if I were blind."

"Fair enough."

"Would you rather play sports professionally or be a mechanic?"

"A mechanic, obviously. I love playin' but it can get pretty dangerous, yknow? Like, football gives everybody concussions and stuff. Plus, the obsession with that kind of thing is stupid. I don't want a camera on me all the time. It'd drive me nuts."

"Interesting," the nerd replied, and I swore I could see the gears moving behind his eyes. He was usually like that. Well, before his panic attacks went for shit. Before all of that, he took in information like a sponge. He couldn't help it, he was just a curious little guy who lived to know stuff. He had the memory of an elephant too, I swear (I only knew that cuz he told me once). The kid lived and breathed information, which is why he was so fuckin smart. That, and his nerd tendencies.

But now, I saw that side of him less and less often. He was quieter, didn't talk nearly as much and seemed less into things he liked before. It was like his mental issues were sucking the life out of him, and it was awful to watch.

It was kinda nice to see him acting like himself again.

"Okay, okay, let's see...would you rather go skydiving or get in a fight?"

"Oh dear," he said, brushing his bangs away from his eyes and setting his elbows on his crossed legs. "Probably get in a fight, honestly. I would just lose on purpose. I don't want to hurt anyone. But jumping out of a plane seems much more dangerous than getting beaten. Well, no, it _is _much more dangerous to jump out of a plane than get beaten."

"What if you _had _to fight back? Like, you had to participate?"

He sighed, looking torn. "I- good heavens, I think I'd attempt to fight." He clicked his tongue in shame. "I suppose my fear of heights is larger than my fear of hurting another person. What a selfish thought."

I was starting to see him fall back into his shell, his eyes dimming and his posture changing so he could wrap his arms around himself protectively. I panicked a bit, not wanting to be the one to shove him back into his depressive state, I tried to think of something quick. I missed the old Dee more than I thought I did- I was desperate to keep him here.

"Well, that doesn't make much sense. You're afraid of heights but not eating bugs? Call it what you want, but a snail is still a snail, dude."

I swear I could almost hear a click as his face showed his annoyance. "Kevin, escargot is a very famous French delicacy! While it isn't exactly popular in this culture, and it may seem like a strange choice of appetizer to this culture does not mean it isn't a very real part of someone else's and it would be considered very rude if you were to-"

I barely heard the rest.

_There's the Edd I know._

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An hour or so later he was in good spirits, both of us slouching slightly on his sofa facing each other and talking. The conversation had moved from his chastisements to a few more round of would you rather, ending with a half-hearted game of thumb war that I let him beat me in a few times.

"I woke you up, huh?" I asked non-nonchalantly, noticing the dark ring around his eyes. As if to prove it, he yawned, shaking his head a bit.

"No, not quite. I was sort of dozing off when you came by, but I wasn't exactly _asleep. _I'm embarrassed to say my sleep schedule is abhorrently off. I could sleep all day if I wanted to, I fear."

"Are ya sick?"

He retracted his hand, as if afraid he was and didn't want to infect me. "No, I am not ill. I just...I don't know. I'm tired. A lot more than I remember being before. I suppose my healthy habits are slipping and it has brought on more fatigue than I am accustomed to. If that is the case, I am the only one to blame, naturally. However, I'm sure it will pass, as these things always do. Maybe then I can stop nodding off in class!" he exclaimed with forced lightness.

"Maybe," I said back, not knowing what would help. After a couple more rounds of me beating him without even trying, I knew that the old Dee had slipped away again, and the kid could barely keep his eyes open. He tried- more than I would have- but he needed a nap and I needed to get ready for practice. I stood, holding my hand for him.

"C'mon, I gotta go. Practice is in a few minutes and the coach'll have my head if I come late again."

He smiled, standing and nodding. He walked me to the door, looking a bit torn as he looked back at the empty house. I put a hand on his shoulder, trying to be supportive without sayin' anything.

"Hey, thanks for hangin' with me. Let's do it again sometime, yeah?"

"That would be delightful, Kevin. I very much enjoy being around you."

Not wanting to say anything stupid, I pulled him in for a brief hug and left, not looking behind me.

_The kid's got some issues, for sure. It doesn't help that he's in there by himself. Maybe I oughta bring him over for chow more often._

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****For those of you who read_ Hiding Behind Enemy Lines_, did you catch my little hint?****

**(For those who don't know,_ HBEL_ is my other fic that connects to this one.)**

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**Thanks for reading! Leave me a review telling me what you thought! Any predictions? Lemme know!**

***hugs and kisses***


	13. Chapter 13- Authority

**ITS TIME.**

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"Alright, now remember that the review for the test is up on my website. Print it out, fill it out, and learn something. I know it's been a long term already, and I'm sure there are things you've forgotten. Even a few minutes every night this week will really help you get ready for the exam. Okay? You're excused."

The teacher waved her hand dismissively, looking miffed. She knew most of the students wouldn't do well on the test. They didn't care- most high schoolers didn't. But that wasn't what bothered her. Her star pupil, Eddward, sat in the corner of the room, head lying in his arms, his shoulder rising and falling slowly. He had fallen asleep about halfway through the class, not even waking when the other students burst out in laughter during a study period. And it wasn't the first time he'd fallen asleep. In the last couple of weeks, it seemed that the only two emotions the boy seemed capable of were discomfort and exhaustion. It annoyed and concerned her.

She was about to move to wake him, but someone beat her to the desk where he lay. Kevin Barr, a loud and carefree student, approached the desk quickly but quietly. The teacher backed up a few paces, hoping the ginger hadn't noticed her. She was afraid that Barr was going to bully the other boy, and she wanted to catch him in the act. He wouldn't pick on Eddward if he knew she was watching.

To her surprise she witnessed the ginger put his things down and kneel next to the desk, making his head level with his sleeping companion's. He then reached out and placed a hand on Eddward's shoulder, shaking him slightly. He didn't flinch when the dark haired boy gasped and sat up, looking confused and startled, his pale face quickly turning a dark shade of red.

Barr said something to him quietly, and the other boy nodded, ducking his face. _Is Barr making fun of him?_

The ginger smiled, standing, and held out a hand to the other. Eddward took his hand and stood as well, giving him an embarrassed smile. He gathered his things and walked out with the football player, who kept a hand on his shoulder.

_Where is he leading him?_

It didn't look good. The teacher slipped silently from the room, following the pair out the door and down the hall.

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**KEVINS POV  
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"Alright, now remember that the review for the test is up on my website. Print it out, fill it out, and learn something. I know it's been a long term already, and I'm sure there are things you've forgotten. Even a few minutes every night this week will really help you get ready for the exam. Okay? You're excused."

I tapped his foot quickly, waiting impatiently for the other kids to leave the room. I pretended to be looking for something before putting my things in a pile and sliding them off my desk as I stood casually. Just as the last kids were filing out I made my way to the opposite side of the room, where I knew Dee had fallen asleep. I noticed his head droop an hour ago, and hoped no one else had noticed. People could be jerks to the kids who fell asleep. To my luck, people had barely cared.

I knelt next to my favorite nerd, knowing I had to wake him. Still, Dee looked so peaceful. His panic attacks never seemed to plague him while he slept, and it made me feel bad to think I was taking that away from him. I put a hand on his shoulder and shook him. It wasn't the first time I had done this, and I knew he didn't wake up well. He jumped, snapping his head up. He looked at the desk, then at me, realization dawning on him. His face went red, and I knew he was pretty embarrassed.

"Hey there. C'mon, let's go home, okay?" I said quietly, trying to get him out of there as fast as possible.

He nodded, and with my help, stood and gathered his things. I steered him out the door, letting him piece together what had happened in the last couple hours. We only got a few paces down the hall before he stopped, looking up at me sadly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep," he said, sounding defeated. "I don't know what came over me, really, I-"

"Hey, hey. Don't be upset. You needed a nap," I shrugged like it was no big deal "and you got one. Simple as that."

He said nothing, shrugging off my hand. I tried not to let it bother me- the poor kid didn't handle embarrassment well.

I rubbed my neck, feeling stupid. "I got most of the notes, if you wan'em. I mean, you probably can't read my handwriting, and I could barely keep up with what she was sayin' cuz she talks so freakin' fast, but-"

"I would love that. Thank you," he replied, a small smile on his face.

_Worth it._

"Cool! Uh- you wanna get em' now, then? I'm sure we could hang at my place for a bit, and we could, like, exchange notes or whatever."

He looked at me a moment, as if trying to decide if I was being real or not. "Of course...that sounds nice."

We continued to walk down the hall, bumping shoulders with a few other students as we fought to get to our lockers. We reached Dee's first, and I leaned against the other lockers as he got his stuff. A few people waved to me as they passed, and a few more stared at Dee and I like they were looking at a formula or something. Like they just didn't get it. I also saw a hall monitor talking to the teacher that I had just had a class with, and she kept looking at me. She looked pretty ticked. I guessed she saw someone stick gum under a chair or something.

But then the hall monitor turned and looked at me too, nodding along to her words. Catching my eye they both looked away quickly.

_Weird._

"Hey, Dee, what does a hall monitor even do? Like, I know during they class they have to watch for ditchers or some shit- Dee?"

The boy had his shoulders hunched and a fist to his chest, his shoulder moving up and down pretty fast. I took a step closer and put a hand on his back, making him flinch away. When he moved, I could see tears streaming down his face.

"Crap. Crap crap crap," I mouthed. We were in full hallway, and the kid had very little time before he was in a full attack. I looked around desperately, trying to find and escape route. Next to us was the copy room, the cafeteria, and _bingo, _an empty classroom.

I grabbed him, though he resisted, and half dragged him away, slamming his locker shut with my foot as I pulled him into the classroom. He was shaking like mad, and in the quieter classroom I could hear him gasping as I pulled him to a corner and sat him down. He immediately moved away from me like I was on fire, pulling his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around himself. He was sobbing, moving his hands under his hat and into his hair, pulling.

_What do I do? What will help him calm down? Does he know it's me? Does he care? Shit! How do I fix this?!_

I loosely grabbed him by his wrists, trying to pull them from the death grip in his hair. If he didn't stop he was going to pull chunks out. He reacted, scooting even farther away from me.

"Hey, c'mon Dee. C'mon. Help me out here. C'mon," I murmured, knowing he couldn't hear me.

Suddenly, as if from nowhere, hands were on me, grabbing me and hauling me off the ground.

"What's going on here?" an angry voice yelled, belonging to the person currently dragging me away from Dee. I could tell the noise was scaring him, as he shrunk even further into himself.

"Get off me! What are you doing?!" I hissed, seeing someone in the corner of my eye. It was the teacher from before, her face set in a disgusted scowl.

_She __followed __me!_

The teacher walked over to Dee, trying to get him to stand. He let out a confused cry, continuing to sob.

"Eddward, dear, it's okay. He won't bother you anymore," the teacher soothed, though it clearly wasn't working. Dee had no sense of who was touching him or why- he was far too gone in his panic to function properly. I struggled against the person holding me, getting angrier by the second.

"Don't touch him! He can't hear you! Let- damnit- _let go!" _I ripped my arms from the guy holding me and yanked the teacher away, stepping in front of Dee and holding out my hands to keep him away.

"Mr Barr, step away from him this instant. You are facing expulsion, and I will not have this kind of behavior," the vice- principal growled, his face red with rage. The teacher next to him didn't look any happier. The vice principal took another step near me and I took a more defensive stance, curling my fists.

"He's having a panic attack! You're only freaking him out more! I'm not the one bothering him- you are!"

The teacher scoffed. "As if that were the truth! I knew you were bullying him! I saw how you pulled him in here! I saw! And now look at him! He looks completely terrified!"

"Because he's having a _panic attack! _Are you even listening?! He-" I lowered my voice, knowing the noise wasn't going to help, "he has them sometimes. He can't control em'. He doesn't know where he is or who you are. So stop fucking yelling, alright?"

"Step away from him, Kevin," the VP insisted, clearly not believing me. I lowered my hands but stayed put, afraid that if I did, they would bother him again. The VP took a step forward so that he was within inches of me, and we had a glaring contest, both of us sneering at each other hatefully. The teacher beside him looked afraid to get involved, like she thought a fight was going to break out. If he got any closer, she'd be right.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my leg, pulling on my pant leg. I looked down to see Dee, looking very lost. I gave him a reassuring smile before being grabbed again. The vice douche-bag had taken my distraction as the perfect opportunity to haul me across the room, and in my surprise, I went down without a fight, hitting the back wall with an _oof._

the teacher was speaking with Dee frantically, trying to pull him out of the room. He looked afraid but allowed it, and Count Asswipe hauled me out after them, leading me to the principal's office.

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**DEE'S POV**

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"Let me get this straight. You had a psychological attack and was Mr. Barr was attempting to do, was _help _you?"

I swallowed. This was not going as I had hoped.

"Indeed. I can see why it would be easy to assume that something...hostile was happening, but I assure you, Kevin was merely trying to help me. He knew that when having a- uh, psychological attack, I tend to lash out in my confusion. Being somewhere quiet and secluded is the safest for me...and the people around me. I was upset because of the nature of the attacks, which can be quiet, shall we say, disorienting, and such, but my state of emotional...er, health, was in no way affected by his actions. I am truly sorry for this misunderstanding, but I can only plead with you not to hold anything against Kevin. He may have acted rather brash, but it was my fault."

I realized I was rambling and shut my mouth, knowing that I was giving far too much information.

"Okay, now let's say that everything you've said is true...how did Mr. Barr know what to do to help?"

"Well, unfortunately, this isn't the first time I've had an...attack in front of him. He understands that when I begin to have these problems, I am rather handicapped. That's why, as you saw, he practically had to carry me away. I wouldn't have cooperated otherwise."

The principal sighed, obviously wishing I had told him that Kevin had assaulted me. He must have had something against him, I guessed. That, or he had already made his assumptions about what happened and he hated being wrong. I couldn't tell.

"Alright. Well, without evidence of hostile intentions towards you and without you giving us any indication of that kind of behavior, we can't get on him for that. But, he did resist authority and lash out at Mr. Walsh. He will receive a week's worth of detention for that, starting next week."

At this, the principal looked sharply at Kevin, who sat in the chair right outside the office, sulking. He looked tense, and I knew that meant he was still angry.

_This is all my fault. _

"You're dismissed, Mr. Marion."

"Thank you," I said quickly, leaving. When I opened the door Kevin's head shot up, and he looked at me hopefully. I cocked my head, signalling for him to follow me. He did, and we walked out of the building together.

"Kevin, I'm so, so sorry for what has happened. This is all my fault. I should have been more careful-"

"So wait, they're expelling me?"

"What? No! They're giving you detention for a week, which is hardly better. And it's all my fau-"

"You're kidding! Just detention?" he pumped his fist, grinning widely. "Awesome! I thought I was out for sure! Ah man, you saved my ass!"

"What?"

"Dude, those people take this stuff pretty seriously, and Mr. Know-It-All has had it out for me since day one. Ma would've killed me if I got kicked out. But detention? That's nothing!"

"You can't be serious."

I guess my face was pretty skeptical, because he laughed, grabbing me around the shoulders, giving me a strange side hug.

"I've had detention before. Half the time they don't even tell your parents. It's fine, really. Just boring."

"Well, okay, but I still-"

His face went serious. "If you're going to apologize, Dee, save it. We've been through this- the attacks aren't your fault. Heck, they're more to blame for what happened. Don't worry about it, okay? No harm no foul, aight?"

"...alright..."

"C'mon. I promised ya notes, didn't I?"

I smiled, allowing him to pull me out to where I knew his motorcycle was parked.

"You did indeed."

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"Ma! I brought over a friend!" Kevin hollered upon entering the house, kicking his shoes off and throwing his backpack down. I slipped out of my own shoes, keeping my messenger bag on my shoulder. The sound of concise footsteps came around the hall, revealing the annoyed and familiar face of Mrs. Renae Barr. Upon seeing us her face soften, but she gave Kevin a wary look.

"You're late," she said curtly, obviously looking for an explanation. Kevin, looking torn, didn't answer immediately. I took the initiative.

"That- if I may- that was my fault. I needed help from Kevin and it took longer than expected."

"Right," Kevin said slowly, giving me a confused look "which is why he's here, actually. We didn't finish."

She gave him a flat look that clearly meant _you'll be telling me everything later, _but nodded. "Dinner's on the table. Eat first, then you can study."

So, I was treated to one of the finest meals in the city. It was hot, homely and delicious. Kevin and his mother chatted with me easily, and I was happy to see his mother was not too angry at us for being so late. In fact, she seemed to warm up to me pretty quickly, which surprised me. I was no stranger to communicating with adults, but rarely did I feel so...welcome. It was, frankly, very strange, but not at all unpleasant. I found myself laughing with them like it was the most normal thing in the world. If I were to squint in just the right way...it did seem almost normal.

After eating and helping with dishes, Kevin took me to his room where he helped me transfer notes from the class I had slept in. He was right- I couldn't read his terrible handwriting, and to be honest, he could not read mine. But we had a grand time trying to read one others' chicken scratch, laughing at how wrong we were.

"Okay, okay, wait. 'The mi-cat-under-ana is the...powder of the cow'?"

I burst out laughing, covering my mouth with my hand as I bent over, unable to contain myself.

"The-the mitochondria is-s the powerhouse of the cell!"

"What? No way! That clearly says 'cow'," he said, chuckling. "And how do you even spell mito-chondi-whatever? Because that doesn't look anything like that."

"Excuse you, sir," I giggled, "I am an excellent speller, thank you very much. Perhaps you need to improve your reading skills."

He gave a mock offensive face, holding a hand to his chest. "Why, I never!"

This didn't help my giggling fit. He continued to act like a posh old woman, flipping an imaginary scarf and sniffing in disdain at me.

"Stop, stop! It hurts," I whined, holding my side as I laughed. He joined in, lying back as we lot ourselves in our laughter. When it died down my face hurt from smiling, and his face was red from the effort.

"Alright, I think we've successfully gotten nothing done," I chastised, not regretting our actions a bit. He shrugged, as if reading my mind.

"I never take notes, and this time I did. So I'm good. And you always do well, so you'll be fine."

"I do well because I study, Kev."

"Kev?"

My face went shade darker. "What?" I asked defensively, feeling foolish. "You gave me a nickname, so I gave you one."

He grinned. looking awfully smug. "Fair enough. Kev it is."

I took the pillow from my lap and tossed onto his face. "Don't you dare let it get to your head, mister."

He took the pillow and set it beneath his head, closing his eyes.

"Oh, I won't."

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**Guess who's back?!  
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**LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK**

***hugs and kisses***


	14. Chapter 14- Butterflies

**TO THE PEOPLE WHO ARE UNHAPPY I HAVEN'T ADDED ANY ROMANCE YET/STILL:**

**I strive for realistic, not idealistic. If you want romance, just wait! If you're looking for ****_smut, _****however, you'll have to look somewhere else. I do not, will not, and cannot write detailed smut.  
**

**Onwards!**

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**THIRD PERSON POV**

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Eddward was not accustomed to needing people.

He had never thought it wise to put your faith in another person, when it was so possible for them to let you down. No, it didn't make logical sense to need someone, to rely on any one for...well, anything. He loved his friends, and he trusted them, but he never _needed _them. It sounded rather cruel, almost. But it wasn't- not really. Eddward treasured his friends above all else. Everyone knew it. He was as kind as he was smart. His friends were his number one confidants, his entertainment, his listeners, his accomplices...

But they weren't his other half. He didn't fall apart when they left- he wouldn't allow it. Why would he?

_He didn't need them._

So it was with a lot of chagrin that he admitted to himself that he, Eddward Marion, needed help. And badly, at that. Help from a tall, goofy football player named Kevin Barr. Oh, it pained Dee to think that he was stooping to such lows. It killed him to think he was in so much need from someone he had barely learned to trust.

He didn't even mean to- but as Kevin walked him to his house after their eventful day, Eddward paused. What had happened had actually scared him. Not the panic attack itself (those always scared him), but the fact that he could not trust the school authority to react to them properly. If he acted out, he was sure to get himself or others in trouble.

_But they knew Kevin could help._

If someone were to find him in a state of hysterics, and they went to the principal, it would make sense, then, that the principal would go to the jock for help. Eddward himself had told them that the Barr boy was the only one who knew how to help him. It was true, of course, but he wished he hadn't said so.

As they approached his house Eddward turned to the ginger awkwardly, wanting to talk about it but having no idea how to start.

"You okay?" Kevin asked, stopping. His companion nodded, not looking at him.

"I was just thinking back on what happened earlier. I didn't think people would react so...angrily."

"They were being douches, yeah."

"Well, they didn't know how to react, I'm sure. Not many people do. That's what worries me."

"You think they'll freak out again?"

The beanie clad teenager looked up, shrugging helplessly. "That's the problem. I don't know. And I cannot- really, I can't- help. I can barely contain myself, so I have no hope for correcting the situation while- while- you know," he admitted, closing his eyes and slumping his shoulders.

"So just text me right before it happens," Kevin suggested casually. "I know you don't want help or whatever- but like, I kind of know how to help."

The nerd fidgeted. Was he really going to do this? Tie down one of the most successful students in the school to _babysit _him? Was that even fair for him to accept? What repercussions would this bring on?

Kevin cut in through his thoughts, his voice a mix of affectionate and exasperated.

"Dee, there's only so much ya can do. And you're right, if people saw you freakin' out, they're not gonna know what to do. If you don't want to make em worried, or get attention or whatever, you're gonna need my help, okay? Fuck...like, man I'm sorry, but you kinda can't do this on your own."

"You really think so?" the boy asked in response, halfheartedly.

"Yeah, I do."

Eddward took a step back, looking humiliated but determined. He stuck out a hand, forcing himself to maintain eye contact.

"Alright."

The ginger smirked and shook his hand, lingering there a moment before the other boy pulled back.

"Thank you, Kevin."

"You're welcome."

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Throughout the next few weeks, both boys took time to adjust to their new arrangement. They had come up with a few code words to use to make it easier on them both.

"Do you remember the homework?" = I need to get a hold of you (on text) or follow me (in person).

"Are you ready for the weekend?" = Are you having a problem?

"I have plans, actually" = I think I'm having a problem.

"I'm gonna be busy!" = I know I'm having a problem.

"I'm free" = there was no problem.

"Remind me to show you something later" = meet me in the nearest quiet place in two minutes, if not earlier.

They used these codes to keep everything a secret. Dee did not want people to know he was struggling and Kevin didn't want people to think he was the kid's bodyguard or something. They _did_ spend quite a bit of time together now- they had yet to find a pattern for how often the attacks were and did not want to take any chances.

In the meantime, they had become quite the pair. People thought it very strange that they inseparable- they hadn't been close before. But now they were stuck at the hip. The only time they weren't together was during lunch, when Dee would help the librarian and Kevin would sit with his friends. However, if time permitted it, Kevin would slip into the quiet room for a few minutes if he could. Some thought Kevin was trying to help the boy find friends- others thought Dee was tutoring his ginger haired friend. Both were true, sort of. Kevin did try to help Dee be more social- if only to keep the thin boy from losing his mind, and Dee did help Kevin with homework if he was struggling- if only to keep the muscular boy from losing his grades.

They had also become closer emotionally. Kevin was growing a bit protective of his companion, and he couldn't help it. It had become his duty to keep Dee from having issues. He became keenly aware of the boy's body language, always on the look for trouble. In which time he'd become quite fond of the boy- in ways he didn't think were normal. He noticed the way the boy spoke, the way he held himself, and how he changed with his moods.

For instance, he always found it funny when Dee would become arrogant. The thin boy didn't even know he was doing it. If someone mispronounced something, or made an assumption that didn't make sense, the nerd would stand a bit straighter, narrow his eyes slightly and crinkle his nose as if he smelled something gross. It was subtle, but it was hilarious.

But the athlete wasn't the only one noticing things. Dee had a quick mind, but he was slow to understand others on a deeper level. He didn't often see the point. With Kevin, however, he was eager to get to the bottom of why he was being so helpful. Was it good intentions, or did he have other motives? In his search, he realized a few things:

1) Kevin was not as cocky as he looked. (This was rather shocking)

2) Kevin was a Momma's boy without a doubt.

3) Kevin loved country and rap music, especially when they were mixed together.

4) Kevin was either happy, or angry. There was almost no in-between.

Dee liked Kevin best when they walked home together. If Kevin invited him over, it was always a joy to the brainiac to watch the other boy interact with his mother. Mrs. Barr was as loving as she was tough, much like her son. Dee could tell they were very close, but they had strange and endearing ways of showing it. Very rarely did they show physical affection, but they showed their emotions through their eyes.

Mrs. Renae Barr had a cool, powerful gaze that was often laced with amusement. Kevin was very similar, though he seemed to laugh more. Every time they walked in the door she would come around the corner, often wielding office or kitchen supplies. Her favorite weapon of choice seemed to be a spatula, one fist on her hip as the other clutched the utensil carefully.

She never greeted them with a hello. She always had something to say, however.

"You forgot to take out the trash this morning."

"Dinner is almost ready."

"I hope you've done your homework."

"I've made something for you."

"Your father called."

She was a business woman through and through. Kevin almost always replied with a groan, though Dee could tell he didn't truly mean it. He would then reply snarkily, kicking his shoes off and stomping up the stairs, leaving Dee to follow timidly. Kevin always closed the door behind him, though Dee assumed it was more for the quiet than to keep his mother out. If she needed them, she was always welcome in.

They would spend the afternoons doing homework, talking, playing cards, playing video games (or rather, Kevin playing while Dee watched) or Kevin doing something silently after Dee accidentally fell asleep.

They were as close as any two people were.

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**(A week later)**

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It was a warm, quiet sort of night (3 AM, to be exact) that Dee found himself sitting in his favorite chair, a book of theological theories in his hands, the only other sound besides his breathing being the turning pages and his thumbs being rubbed against the paper as he read. He tried to concentrate on the words but his fingertips still felt funny and his nerves were still off. His last attack had been overwhelming- to the point that he smacked his head against a wall in an attempt to feel something besides the handicapping fear, but had only injured himself in the process. He hadn't bled, but he would have one doosy of a bruise underneath his ebony locks.

He tried not to think about it, instead trying to make sense of the black squiggles in front of him, to no avail. He blinked, closing the book slowly and peering down at the boy currently asleep on his lap.

Kevin had come over after Dee had called him, knowing he was about to fall into his anxiety. The red head had helped him sit down, and had held him after Dee hit his head- partially to check the severity of the injury and partially to keep his friend from doing it again.

After Dee had gained back control of his mind Kevin stayed, insisting that he would not feel satisfied until Dee had completely recovered from his attack. So he sat, his arm and head resting lazily on his friends legs, staring off into space until the lateness of the night overtook him and pulled him to unconsciousness.

Of course, the smaller of the two had not minded this intrusion, finding comfort in the other's caring nature and intimacy. While he still felt a little off and he certainly wasn't fit to do much, he knew that by having someone there he would be alright.

Kevin (or Kev, as Dee had started calling him) had become the young boy's anchor in the upside down world he found himself in. No matter the time or the place, Kev was sure to have his back should any...unfortunate events occur. Dee found himself becoming more and more attached to the strange football player, to the point where he almost dreaded parting ways.

His feelings for another person had never seemed so personal before, and he was beginning to question the nature of his affections.

He felt at peace in the other boy's presence, but he also felt...jittery? No, that wasn't quite the feeling. Excited? Elated? Ecstatic?

_Like there were butterflies in his stomach._

It was such feelings that confused him. He knew that experiencing such notions usually meant that one, er, _liked _someone. In a more-than-platonic sort of way. A crush sort of way.

Dee didn't have a crush on Kev, did he?

That was, of course, quite a statement to make. They had barely become friends, and here he was, twitter-patted! Unless, of course, he wasn't. It could just be a side effect of his attacks. In fact, that made more logical sense. It would make perfect sense that his anxieties had manifested themselves in strange ways. He knew that his mental health was strange and often unpredictable. This could very well be a part of it!

Just as these rationalizations seemed to fit into place in his mind, Dee's attention was turned towards the no-longer-sleeping-form of the boy on his lap. The football player blinked confusedly, lifting his head a bit and looking around, his arm twisting slightly and his hand gripping Dee's mid-thigh to help steady him as he slowly sat up. As he turned to the dark haired boy, Dee noticed there was a line that ran from the boy's mouth to his forehead, looking suspiciously like a wrinkle in the genius's pants.

"Wha-?" the boy mumbled, his groggy voice an octave deeper than normal.

It was at that precise moment that Dee understood that his feelings were no result of his panic attacks.

He had it bad for the other boy.

"W-well good morning, my friend," Dee said softly, smiling bashfully. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Shit, did I really fall asleep?"

"You did. I feel bad for having woken you. I'm the reason you are not in bed anyway, and I-"

Kevin groaned, crossing his arms over Dee's legs and resting his forehead atop his forearms. He took a deep breath, sighing, and Dee could feel the heat of his breath on his knees.

"No, 'skay. I shouldn't have fallen asleep on ya. You didn't wake me up- your bony legs did. They're not that comfortable, I gotta say."

The ebony haired boy scoffed, laughing. "I do apologize for that. Had you asked for a pillow or-heaven forbid- a proper place to rest, I would have happily accommodated you."

Kevin huffed, his voice muffled and quiet. "It's not _that _bad."

Dee took that as a compliment.

They sat together a few minutes more before Kevin sat up and pulled away, rubbing at his eyes. He looked his friend up and down carefully, silently looking for any signs of a lingering attack. The boy's hands rested peacefully on his closed book, not shaking. The boy's eyes were clear and focused, and his hair had been put back where it belonged, his bangs tucked behind his ear and his small ponytail visible where a hat usually stood. Dee felt comfortable enough to let Kevin see his hair on occasion, especially if it fell off during an attack.

"You doin okay, then?"

The thin boy tugged at his large shirt collar, covering his shoulder more properly. "Oh yes, I am feeling much better now, thank you."

"An' your head?"

Dee visibly winced, reaching back to feel the decent sized bump on the back of his skull. "Sore, but fine. Nothing time cannot fix."

Kevin smirked, though there was concern laced his features. "Put a little ice on it. Should help with the swellin'. And take it easy for a couple days, yknow?" The football player then stood, wordlessly hinting that he should go. Dee stood as well, showing him to the door. He put a hand on the doorknob but paused, turning back to the gigner.

"Thank you for coming over-especially, uhm, in the middle of the night. I, well, it means a lot."

Now Kevin's smile was genuine. He shoved his hands in his basketball short pockets, trying to look nonchalant.

"Yeah, no problem. Anytime, yknow. Really." He put a hand on Dee's shoulder and squeezed it lightly, dipping his head to be Dee's height. "I got your back, okay?"

Dee placed his hand on top of Kevin's, feeling his face go a bit red.

"Yes, alright."


	15. Chapter 15- Porcelain

**This chapter hurts to write. Hope you like it.**

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It was happening again. The itching, the fear, it had me. It clung to the edge of my skin, my head, my chest... it was tangled in my hair, caught in my throat, burning in my stomach and blinding my eyes. I could feel it choking me with every broken breath. I could feel it dancing under my clothes, violating me. I could feel it taking over my mind, clouding my reason and bringing out my worst nightmares in psychedelic and dark patterns that felt so real and so present. I could not escape. There was no escape.

So there I lay, burning alive, all my thoughts directed towards one thing.

Staying alive.

Perhaps that's the worst part- a small fragment of your sense is still there reminding you that _it isn't real, _but in every other aspect your body is convinced that you are _dying. _Not in a quick, quiet slip of sleep that lets your spirit peacefully leave your body, but a raging, poisonous fight, one you know you have no chance in winning. But you keep fighting.

You fight because it hurts, you fight because you're afraid, you fight because your body doesn't know what else to do.

And then it ends.

Your body wants to celebrate, because by all accounts, you've just overcome certain death, but as the logic and the lucidity begin to reappear, you come to understand that no, you were in no danger. Everything you've just experienced was all in your head. There was no victory in your survival. There _is _no victory in your survival. Your mind, your body, your spirit- it's all broken. Broken, defective, useless, broken, broken, broken...

I curled my fists in the sheets, releasing a breath. I could feel that my shirt had ridden up, but I couldn't move to fix it. My limbs were as heavy as concrete. I scrunched up my face, caught between sobbing and sighing. I wanted to throw up but I doubted my body could produce the energy to pull it off. I couldn't speak, couldn't move

_Oh Lord I'm alone, _my mind screamed, causing tears to prick at my eyes. _Alone and broken. So very broken. Worthless, broken mind. Am I destined for this? Just merciful gaps between attacks? I- oh god, I just want to sleep. Why can't I sleep? I'm so tired... Can't I sleep? Just let me sleep. Please, god, just let me rest. _I gasped, letting out a sob. _I'm so tired... this isn't fair. I just want to sleep. Leave me alone. Leave me alone to sleep. Leave me alone. I want it to stop. I want it to stop so badly. I hate this. I hate it, I hate it so much. Make it stop. _

I fell off my bed, standing lopsidedly and stumbling down the hall to my bathroom, holding the contents of my stomach until I turned on the light, at which time the little food I'd eaten came back up, causing me to vomit. My hands shook as I supported myself on the rim of the toilet. Realizing all the time I'd spent trying to eat a decent meal all being wasted made something snap inside of me.

I stood, my vision blurring as I threw open the cabinets, pulling out the drawers and dumping the contents on the floor. I took toiletries by the handful and threw them at the mirror, on the floor and on the counter. I grabbed a glass cologne bottle and smashed it on the counter, angrily watching as the shards turned my hands crimson, the tears mixing in with the blood. Next was several plastic combs that were all snapped in half or thrown across the room. A porcelain toothbrush holder entered the pile, as well as blood from where the broken pieces landed. I held a particularly sharp piece in my hand- it seemed to glow in my blurry vision.

I gritted my teeth ran it harshly over my shirt, cutting the fabric and my stomach in the process. The pain registered and I fell to the ground, my knees up near my chest. It hurt so, so badly, but it also felt refreshing. I had control. I repeated the motion across my left shoulder, letting out a whimper when the nerves alerted my brain of the injury. I continued to sob as my skin burned. I took the porcelain dagger to my calves a couple times before the pain in my sliced hand became too much and I dropped the makeshift weapon.

I let my body sink to the floor onto my back, my tears gone and my head starting to clear.

There were five lacerations in total: one on my stomach, one on my shoulder, two on my left leg and one on my right.

I had cuts.

_That was- I didn't-_

_I didn't mean to, like-_

_And I-_

Oh god.

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What had I done?

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***hugs and kisses***

**-wise**


	16. Chapter 16- Sleeves

**Was in the ER for four hours today. Got six IVs, about a million electrical devices connected to me, and they ran several tests. They believe my severe stress/anxiety over the last couple of months caused me to have heart attack like symptoms, which they fear are causing blood clots, that can get stuck in my lungs. Not sure yet. It seemed only appropriate to write this story after such an experience. **

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**KEVIN'S POINT OF VIEW**

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I'm pretty used to seeing Dee in bad situations. Really, I have. How many people can say they've seen someone freak out like he does? See someone on the edge of hysterics? See someone so broken you aren't even sure they can be put back together? Watch as someone unravels quickly and painfully, with you being only able to _watch? _Sit there, useless, while someone literally loses their minds? Not many.

Well guess_ what_, all you morbidly curious motherfuckers.

It sucks.

Worst part is that it never ends. Yeah, the kid's attacks will go away and if he's lucky, they'll go away long enough for him to sleep, or relax, or god forbid, _eat something, _but for me, it never ends. I'm always on edge around the kid. Is he going to freak out? Is he going to pass out? Is he going to, I don't know, wake up tomorrow? Hell, even when I'm not around him I'm worried. I've turned into some psycho middle aged mom- and with good reason! Any second now I'll have to sprint out of the classroom, down the stairs to where he is... to do what?

That's right. Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.

Because there's nothing I can do. I can't stop them, I can't make it better, I can't fix anything! He says that having me there helps him calm down, but based on how much worse they're getting, I'm really start to doubt they're doing any good. I'm just there, just watching as the kid falls apart. I'm like, standing at the gates of Hell but the stupid gate is locked. What are you supposed to do?

He's only getting sicker. Sure, I've been helping keep him as cheerful as possible, and recently I've been finding every excuse to have him over for dinner so the kid will actually eat something... but I don't think that I'm really affecting much. And that's just it. That's what sucks. I'm fucking useless, and I hate it. But what can I do? I'm no therapist! I'm not a doctor, and I'm sure as hell not a miracle worker!

But he won't tell anyone. I think I'm the only one who knows, and that was by accident. I can't make him tell anyone, but I sure want to. If only to get him to see a doctor about how skinny he is. It's not healthy, I swear to God.

The dumb kid. The poor, helpless, stupid kid.

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"Hey Dee. What's kicking?"

The nerd jumped when I spoke, startled. He was a pretty jittery person by nature, so I wasn't surprised. He turned to me, his shoulders relaxing slightly when he recognized me. He smiled a little, his arms crossed over his chest protectively.

"Hello Kev. How are you?"

I shrugged, looking at him. Something seemed off. It wasn't his hat...he always had that on. It was the fact that he had a _lot _on. Long sleeves and long slacks, his shirt sleeves pulled up and over his hands. He was sweating, so at first I thought he might have a fever as he looked a little over heated. Then again, it was getting really warm outside. There was no reason for him to bundle up.

"Yo, Dee what's with the sleeves? It's like ninety degrees. You're gonna have a heat stroke."

"Oh," he said dismissively, not bothering to drop his defensive stance. "I was a bit chilly this morning, so I thought I'd dress warmly. Besides, it isn't exactly ninety degrees. It could be in the upper eighties, however."

I quirked an eyebrow. "Why don't you roll your sleeves up or something? You look kinda warm, dude. You sure you ain't sick or somethin?" I moved forward to place a hand on his forehead and he stumbled back, keeping his arms wrapped tightly about himself.

"Oh no, I'm feeling fine, thank you! No need to worry, I assure you," he said, his voice sounding higher than normal. He forced a laugh, one arm detaching itself from his side to move a bit of hair out of his eyes before crossing his arms again. "Besides, I wouldn't want to wrinkle my shirt. That would be silly!" His eyes moved back in forth in a quick, almost panicky way. He looked absolutely nuts.

I took a half step back, putting my hands up slightly in a defenseless position. "Okay then. Hey, how about we walk to class? That cool?"

He seemed pleased with the change of subject and nodded, walking with me. Something was definitely off. Usually he told me if he thought he was going to have an attack, but he seemed pretty happy not saying a thing. That was kinda weird. Dee always had something to say to me. The kid was quiet, but if you got in his circle (and I'd like to think I had), he opened up. He had a lot on his mind, all the time.

So his strained silence was freaking me out.

"Hey, you ready for the weekend?"

(Are you having a problem?)

I asked nonchalantly, looking at him from the corner of my eye. He sighed, as if he had been hoping I wouldn't ask.

"It's a long story, actually. But I'm pretty free this weekend."

(It's a long story. But I'm good.)

_Wait, what? What does that mean?_

"Hey, did you need me to show you something later?

(Do we need to meet up soon?)

He whipped his head to me, and then to the floor quickly.

"No! No, of course not. You didn't need to show me something. I'm fine."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes, honestly. Like, oh sure, I_ totally_ believe that bullshit. Right. But I couldn't pry, could I? That got me nowhere in the past, and it was pretty rude anyway.

"Sure thing, man. Just checking. Hey, did I tell you the baseball team completely creamed the Rockets yesterday night? I'm talking, three home runs in the second inning! They didn't stand a chance. I almost felt bad for the poor suckers. Almost. Ya shoulda seen the look on their faces, man. They didn't even want to play by the end. It was hilarious."

I then made a bunch of dumb faces, pretending to be the players, getting Dee to laugh a little, his hand moving from his chest to cover his mouth while he giggled at my stupid joke.

_Oh, _I thought stupidly, _maybe that's what I'm good for. _

_._

Since we had done so well at the game, the team didn't have a long practice. I convinced Dee to wait for me, and he agreed, deciding to hide in the library with "necessary and fulfilling research" until we were done. I was pumped, and the good vibes from the game hadn't left, so I was in a pretty sweet mood at practice. I helped the guys do some basic drills and work on the couple of things we were still rusty at, waiting just until the guys were sweating to let them go.

"Alright y'all! You're good for today! Get outta here," I hollered, and I got a few 'whoops' and a 'thank God' from the team. As the guys shuffled into the gym locker rooms, one of the younger guys lingered, looking at me nervously. It was Spencer, the first year. He was a hilarious, kinda short dude with killer reflexes when playing.

"Hey Barr?"

"Yeah, Spenc?"

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

This caught me off guard. I mean, the guys on the team weren't idiots, but they also weren't...talkers. I mean, they talked a lot, sure, but they usually didn't have anything important to say. Especially not important enough to ask for 'a second'. That was so professional and weird, it got my attention. When the last player had closed the gym door behind himself, I turned to Spencer with open ears, trying to seem chill.

"Sure thing, dude. What's up?"

"It's about your buddy. The one who, like, passed out that one time?"

I scowled, and he got more uncomfortable. "I didn't tell anyone about that or anything. But I uh, saw him today, right? In the bathroom. Like, not _in _bathroom, God, no, but like, he was washing his hands when I walked in. It was during the middle of lunch, so no one was around. At least, no one should have been, because it was in the halls and we're not allowed to be there during lunch, and I was there because I had to ask a question after class and got lectured, so I was on my way out-"

"Spenc," I cut in, my curiosity taking over. "Focus."

"He was bleeding, Barr."

"_What?"_

He put up his hand. "Don't freak out. It's not like he needed stitches or anything. At least, I doubt it. But his hands were pretty beat up, and it looked pretty painful. Like he'd shook hands with Freddy Kruger or something. It was messed up. I just thought you should know."

"Yeah," I said, shaking my head, trying to keep cool. "Yeah, no, that was the right thing to do. Thanks for telling me. Just don't tell anyone else, okay?"

At this, the other boy looked torn. "I don't know man...that's pretty messed up. I know he pissed off Ricky, and those guys, yknow?"

"I don't think it was them."

"He needs help, Kevin."

At this I snapped. Of fucking course the kid needed help! "Yeah, he does. But it's a lot more complicated than that. So do me a favor and not make it worse. You understand?"

The other boy scowled back, not saying anything as he picked up his glove and shoved passed me, walking into the gym silently.

_Great. Way to go, idiot. That's gonna help. Just yell at the kid trying to help. Good plan. Way to go. _

I walked into the building glumly. I had bigger things to worry about.

I changed quickly, grabbing my things and heading to the library, a determined glare on my face.

No more Mr. Nice Guy.

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**What did you think?**

**Predictions?**

***hugs and kisses***


	17. Chapter 17- Tape

**Guns for Hands by Twenty One Pilots**

**KEVIN'S POV**

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I walked home quickly, all the while fuming. My head hurt with how angry I was- Ma called em' "stress headaches". I couldn't piece together my thoughts... they were all so jumbled up. I knew that Dee was hurt, and I knew that he had lied about it to my face, which was a pretty dick move. The kid had trust issues, sure, but_ really_? Why did he lie? Why wouldn't he want me to know? Was he embarrassed? Had he done something stupid, like grab a knife at the wrong end or something? Had it happened during a panic attack? Did he need stitches?

And why didn't he just tell me? I kicked a rock as hard as I could and walked faster.

I didn't want to bother dropping my stuff off at the house, but if I also didn't want to bring my equipment to Dee's house. No distractions.

I threw the door open, hearing the click of my mother's shoes as she rounded the corner. She was drying her hands on a towel, and when she saw me, she raised an eyebrow, pausing.

"You're flushed," she stated, putting her fists on her hips.

"No shit," I mumbled back, not looking her in the eye as I made for the stairs. To my surprise she said nothing, allowing me to dump all my belongings on the floor of my bedroom and return downstairs, trying to leave before I said anything further. I barely got my hand on the door when her quiet, cold voice stopped me in my tracks.

"You have an hour. Be back with an explanation and an apology."

With that, she turned on her heel and walked back to the kitchen. I closed my eyes for a moment, knowing I was in for it. I sighed, opened the door and walked out of the house.

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I pounded on the door twice, not looking to waste time with formalities. I crossed my arms over my chest, waiting. A faint "one moment please!" reached my ears, and I rolled my eyes. I was so not in the mood right now. Barging in would be wrong, and I knew it. Almost a minute later the door opened, and my favorite little nerd popped from behind the door, looking confused.

"Hello there..." he started awkwardly, unsure what to say.

"We need to talk, Dee."

A flash of panic wash over his face, and he hesitated before taking a step back and opening the door wider. "W-why of course. Come in," he invited. I walked to the living room and sat across from him, trying not to look pissed off and probably failing miserably, if his nervous behavior was any clue. He perched on the edge of the seat and put his fingerless-glove-covered-hands under his legs, looking anywhere but my face. There was a long, tense pause before I sighed heavily, dropping my shoulders and shaking my head slightly.

"You lied to me."

His head snapped up and honest confusion spread across his face. I could see him going through our last couple conversations, thinking of a time when he wasn't honest.

"I do not recall what you're referring to," he said quietly.

"No? I asked you if you having a problem today and you said no," I explained. Now he really looked lost, but also a bit defensive. I knew he didn't like being accused.

"I wasn't having a problem, though. That wasn't a lie."

_You've gotta be kidding me. _

"Yeah, well, Spencer says he foundya pretty beat up today!"

"That wasn't a panic attack," he said quickly, scowling slightly and crossing his arms as if it were none of my business and I was wrong to ask.

_Oh hell no._

I jumped up and threw my hands in the air, incredulous. "It's still a fucking _problem, _Dee! You're still hurt! Don't you get it? I'm trying to help you and you won't even tell me what's wrong! I don't get it! I'm just- ugh, I'm so frustrated. I thought we were done with the I'm 'fine' thing. I thought you trusted me," I said dejectedly, plopping back onto the couch and putting my face in my hands and rubbing my temples.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and a soft voice near my ear speak sympathetically. "It must be exhausting to be worried about someone else all the time," the voice cooed. I rubbed my eyes, grinding my teeth.

"I'm fucking useless here, man. I don't even know what's wrong."

A soft hand was placed on my arm. "It isn't your responsibility to do something," the voice said, just as gentle as before.

"But I _want _to help, and I can't!" I said, annoyed, dropping my hands and looking into the sad smile of Dee, who was sitting cross legged on the floor in front of me. "What happened, Dee? Why are you afraid to tell me that you got hurt?"

He sighed, looking at the floor. "I..." he started, looking helpless and afraid. "I don't know how to explain it, and I didn't want to worry you any more than you already are."

A moment passed and he sighed again, shaking his head slowly and pulling off his gloves. Underneath were white bandages covering the fingers and palm of his right hand. He held it out to me silently, and I took his hand in my own a moment to get a better look. The bandages weren't so thick...the cuts couldn't have been so terrible to need stitches, but I'm sure it hurt like hell.

He pulled back and before I could ask him what he was doing, he undid the first three buttons of his shirts and pulled the open collar to the side, revealing similar white bandages along the side of his shoulder, disappearing down his arm underneath his shirt. After buttoning up his shirt he lifted the shirt upwards, revealing a gauze running just above his belly button. I noticed just how red his face was, and how hard his hands were shaking. I could only imagine how hard it was for him to show me those.

But he wasn't done. He uncrossed his legs, wincing as he did. He pulled the bottom of jeans up to his knees, showing more white bandages. Only then did I realize that the bandages had been secured with packing tape and looked poorly wrapped. It hit me that it would have been incredibly difficult for him to do up his bandages with injured hand.

"You couldn't even fasten them right because of your hand, huh?" I asked softly. His mouth turned to a crooked frown and he nodded, not looking at me.

"Let me redo them," I offered, not surprised when he looked at me, ready to protest.

"You don't want them dirty, do you? You could get an infection. Besides, it'll hurt less if we take the tape off. Promise."

There was a long, long pause before he nodded, standing slowly, trying not to look like it hurt.

"I-I I'll be right back," he mumbled, leaving me in the room by myself. I walked over to the guest bathroom and washed my hands, trying not to let my curiosity take control.

_He's letting you help. Don't ruin it by attacking him with questions, _I scolded myself.

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He came back down in a tank top and basketball shorts, a first aid kit in his left hand. When I noticed him I jumped up and took the kit from him, instructing him to sit on the floor against the couch. He said nothing but complied, putting his elbows on the couch as leverage to help himself down to avoid using his hand. I decided I would save his hand for last, as I figured it would be the most delicate.

I winced at how much of the tape was on his skin, knowing it would hurt to take it off. "Alright, this isn't going to feel good, but I'll try to pull it off quick, okay?" He nodded and I ripped it off, making him flinch and cry out between clenched teeth.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry, it's over. You're good," I said quickly, pulling the rest of the bandage off. Underneath was...slashed. There were a couple long cuts and one short one that looked a bit deeper. They were probably deep enough to get stitches, but I knew that if he were careful (and I was able to help), they would heal okay. He'd have some wicked scars though...

"Okay," I breathed, trying not to imagine what horrible things must have occurred for the gashes to be there, so dark against his pale skin. "Okay. Not so bad, right? We probably oughta wash em out," I mumbled, trying to distract him. He laid his arms on his stomach and leaned back, facing the ceiling, his complexion ghostly white.

"Are you squeamish?" I asked him seriously, not wanting him to pass out on me.

"Not usually. It's different when you can feel it..." he whispered back, swallowing.

"Breath in through your nose and out through your mouth," I instructed calmly, gathering what I needed to clean the cuts. Cleaning them was easy, but it must have hurt a shiton, because Dee kept squirming and gasping. He wiped tears from his eyes a couple times, and I pretended not to notice. I tried to keep him talking about other things, asking him about the pictures on the wall of his parents and of his grandparents.

"My parents met at school, I believe. They were both getting their doctorate's. They studied together, if I remember correctly. My grandmother once told me that my mother purposefully did poorly on a test so the grade curve would help my father enough that he could pass. I don't know if it's true or not," he recited, looking at the ground as I tightened a bandage on his left shoulder. Both his legs had been cleaned and wrapped, and I was almost done with his upper body. His shoulder and arm had been worse than his legs, but his stomach had been the worst. The angle and depth pf his injuries was making me afraid that his injuries were of his own doing. The thought made me feel like puking.

"How come you don't know the story well?" I asked, reaching back for a clip to secure the bandage.

"Mother and father don't like to talk about it. My grandmother would tell me stories, however. She passed away when I was ten. I can't recall everything she said in great detail."

I didn't know how to respond to that so I stayed quiet, finishing up and scooting back around to face him. "Alright, let me have your hand." He reluctantly obliged, setting it delicately in my own. I looked it over a minute before pulling the bandage off slowly. Dried blood clung to the bandage and Dee grunted when I pulled it off completely. There was only one cut, but it was as deep on the ones on his legs. I wiped the blood off as well as I could before carefully wrapping his fingers and palm in gauze, so concentrated in my work that I nearly jumped when Dee spoke up again.

"It was porcelain," he breathed, his eyes shut. It looked almost painful for him to say it. I wanted so badly to demand a better explanation, but I kept my mouth shut. If he wanted to talk, I'd let em'. If he didn't, I'd let em'.

"I got s-so angry... I didn't know what to do," he explained slowly, his voice cracking. "I just wanted something to go _my _way, even if it wasn't a good thing," he continued, using his one good hand to gesture to himself sadly before gripping his shirt tightly. "I'm not sure how to describe the feeling. It was terrifying. I just..."

I stopped what I was doing and looked him in the eye. He looked almost desperately at me, conveying a message I couldn't understand.

"I'm losing my mind, aren't I?" he whispered. I gave him a smile and opened my arms, letting him lean against me. "No, Dee, no, you're not going crazy. You're just a little lost's all. And it sucks way more than it should. But you're gonna be okay, promise. Lost people get found, or find a way out, yknow? Even if it takes a while."

I wanted to promise that I could help him next time. I wanted so badly to tell him that everything would be fine if he would just trust me. That sounded right, didn't it? That's what they would say in the movies.

But I knew that even if I could, that's not what he wanted to hear right then. Because it wasn't about me. He was broken, and while I might be able to piece him back together, in that moment what he really needed was comfort.

So I let him lay there for a few minutes, telling him it was going to be okay. I felt him relax against me, calming down. He would be embarrassed about his little breakdown tomorrow, but that was okay.

He needed me right now.


	18. Chapter 18- Confession(s)

**KEVIN'S POINT OF VIEW**

**.**

I closed the door behind me quietly, but I knew no matter how silent I was, she would hear me. I was starting to wonder if her hearing was superhuman. I had enough time to take off my hat (she always said it was 'impolite' to wear hats indoors) and square my shoulders before she rounded the corner, her apron off and her face set in a stony scowl.

"I said _one hour, _Kevin. It's been nearly two," she said in a flat voice.

"I can explain, Ma," I offered, and she promptly walked off. I wasn't sure if that were her response or if she was beckoning me to the kitchen. Deciding not to risk ignoring her again, I followed, sitting down across from her at the dinner table. The food was still set out, and I could only imagine how ticked she must be at letting it go cold.

"Well?" she prompted, still not looking happy, though she seemed to have relaxed a bit.

"Someone needed me, Ma."

"Who?"

"Does it matter?"

"_Kevin."_

"It was Dee, Ma. The Marion kid? He, uh, got kinda hurt and-"

"How?"

I shrugged helplessly, throwing my hands up a bit in exasperation. "I don't know!" I sighed, running my hands through my hair before running them down my face, trying to keep from being frustrated. "I don't know," I repeated, in a calmer tone, not looking at her. "He didn't really say."

"What _did _he say, then?"

"He-" I stopped, knowing this was taboo. He trusted me to not tell anyone, right? Did Ma count? She wouldn't spill...right?

"He said it was something porcelain. He had, like, pretty bad cuts on 'is legs, and his shoulder and gut and hands," I recalled, the sickening image of his injuries burned in the back of my eyes like brands. I wasn't going to easily forget how painful it looked. Especially on him. He always looked so frail, like he was made of glass or something. Freaky to see the kid all broken like that.

"Does he need stitches?" Ma asked, uncrossing her legs. _Uh-oh. _She was getting ready for action. She absolutely could _not _take action, or she'd only freak him out more. Plus, he'd be mad if he knew I'd told someone, even if it was just my mother.

"No, no, I don't think so," I said quickly, putting my hands out to stop her. "I just...I don't know. It looked like it hurt."

"And?"

"And, I don't know! It looked like...yknow, not an accident."

"You think he's self-harming?"

"Maybe. It's- it's more complicated than that."

She crossed her legs again, and set her entwined hands in her lap. "Explain yourself."

"He's not, I mean, he's..." I moved my hands around, trying to find the proper words. Dee was way better at this explaining crap. "He has issues, I guess. He gets panic attacks. Bad ones. He doesn't know where he is or anything and he just curls into a ball and freaks out. I've seen it happen like, a million times, I swear. He's not...he's not himself. I think, last time he had one, he happened to have one...near something sharp. Something porcelain or whatever," I shrugged, hoping that what I said made sense.

"How often does he have attacks?"

"Pretty often...three times a week? He used to hide em', yknow, but now he finds me when he has 'em. Remember when I got detention last week? Yeah, that was because the stupid Vice Principal was trying to mess with him while he havin' one. I told him to shove it, and I guess he thought I was the one messing with the kid. Dee tried to explain it to them that I was only trying to help, but they didn't really care."

"Why does he find you?"

"Cuz," I sighed, hating that I was giving away the poor kid's secrets, "I'm the only one who knows. Like I said, he's not himself. So he freaks out, and sometimes he lashes out at people cuz they scare him. So I'm there to keep him from messing with people, and to keep people from bugging 'im."

"How long do they last?"

"A few minutes. Not long."

"You do realize that Eddward needs serious medical attention for this, right?" she asked, looking dumbfounded.

"Yeah, but that's not really my business. The kid doesn't want anyone to know."

"What he wants and what he needs aren't the same things, Kevin."

I sat up, annoyed. "Well, yeah, I've thought about that, thank you very much, but the kid's in a pretty bad place and breaking the only trust he has sounds like a pretty douche move to me."

"Letting him get worse because you won't come forward isn't the right thing to do, either," she shot back, keeping her voice level.

I huffed. "This is why I didn't want to tell anyone about this. Thanks a lot," I grumbled, getting up from the table. Her voice was quiet and calm as I walked out.

"It's your decision."

.

**(TWO DAYS LATER)**

Dee sat across from me, concentrating as he carefully outlined a poster lying on the floor in front of his crossed legs. He had mentioned it was for a chemistry class, one he "had no intention of failing". So instead of talking with me, he was content to describe chemical equations with a big, squeaky marker on an oversized piece of paper. I didn't mind just keeping him company, but something was bothering me.

"What if you just saw someone about your attacks?" I said aimlessly, breaking the silence. If I caught him off guard, he didn't show it. He didn't even look up from his stupid poster.

"I am."

I sat up, shocked. "You are? How long have you been doing that?"

At this, he paused, still staring at the big black letters. "For months. My attacks aren't the only….issue I've had to face. They're just the most pressing, as of late."

"Wait- what other problems?"

He went back to writing. "I suffer from symptoms of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. It means I have urges that don't make a lot of sense sometimes. I can't control them, just like I can't control my attacks. I see a therapist to help me control and possibly ignore my urges."

"….what _kind _of urges?" I asked slowly. This, finally, caused him to look up. I must have looked pretty horrified, because he gave me a pretty annoyed look.

"Not _sexua_l urges, Kevin! Ugh, that was my fault. Poor choice of words. It's like…an instinct. Or an idea that I can't ignore."

"Like what?"

"Like," he paused, looking around. He reached over for his textbook, rubbing his thumbs along the sides of the pages. "This. Right now, of course, I'm not feeling urged, but I have a tendency to do this when I get interrupted in my reading."

I nodded. "Yeah, I've seen you do that, actually. But why? Why does your mind want you to do that?"

He shrugged, rubbing a tired eye with his fist. "There isn't usually a good reason behind most of the things I feel compelled to do. That's the part of it that most find a burden. I'm very lucky actually- some people feel the need to hug strangers or light things on fire. My compulsions are usually harmless."

"Why didn't you tell me you had this?"

He fiddled with the marker in his hands, placed in his lap. "It's not easy to talk about it. It makes it worse sometimes. Besides, I didn't think you would have to. My compulsions aren't that bothersome."

"Losing control of part of your mind sounds pretty bothersome to me, Dee."

"Yes, well, at least I have most of it with OCD."

It took me a minute to understand what he meant. I let out a breath, looking at him sadly.

"Wanna take a break from the sciences so I can change your bandages?" I asked softly, trying to change the subject. He nodded, and went to change. By the time he came back down, I had moved his assignment to the coffee table and had pulled out the first aid kit form where I set it last time. I padded the floor next to me, inviting him to sit.

"Pop a squat. Let Dr. Barr patch ya up," I offered, letting him collapse onto the floor beside me. I quickly got to work, replacing the bandages and cleaning the wounds like before. They had healed considerably, and were scabbing, which made me feel much more at ease. None of them had bled much, which told me that he probably didn't need stitches. It was still painful for him, but he didn't tear up this time, thank heavens.

It did take me a while to finish, though. It's not like the injuries had suddenly become really small or anything. They were still serious cuts. They just didn't look…as threatening this time. I wanted to bring up something totally random to help keep his mind off things, but I knew I had some confessin to do.

"Hey, Dee. I just wanted ya ta know that I kinda told my Ma about uhm, what happened that one time with the Vice Principal. She got all in my face about that stuff and I didn't think I should lie to her. I know you didn't want anyone to know, man. So I'm sorry I told."

He looked at me like I had just pulled a gun on him. The glassy blue eyes cleared for a moment with honest fear and I felt like I was gonna be sick.

_Oops._

"You told someone? How much do they know? How long have they known?"

"…yeah, my Ma. Well, I mean, she kinda guessed that something was happening, but I guess I confirmed it. I told her that you get attacks and sometimes you find me when you need help, yknow? It was a couple days ago, I think. I mean…she's not gonna tell anyone…" my voice was hesitant, and I felt helpless. What was I supposed to do? Lie to my own mother? It's not like she hadn't already figured it out!

Dee looked absolutely miserable, lying his head against the seat of the couch and covering his face with an elbow. "She must think I'm absolutely mad," he wailed unhappily, the frustration and humiliation obvious.

"Nah man," I assured him, smirking. "She's seen worse, trust me. And I'm sure she already knew. There's like, nothing that woman doesn't know, I swear."

The raven haired beauty stayed silent.

"She thinks you should get help, though," I added.

"I _am,_" he defended, huffing. "Sort of."

"What do you mean, sort of?"

"Well, I have mentioned the attacks to my therapist, of course, but I think he underestimates the severity of said attacks. He seems to believe that I don't really need counseling for them, actually. He prefers to focus on my compulsions, which is understandable. OCD is usually a bigger problem than anxiety attacks."

"So he knows, but he hasn't done anything?"

"Not exactly, no."

"Dangit, Dee, this is why I worry! Why don't you say anything?"

At this, he scowled, glaring at the ceiling, his voice heavily laced with sarcasm. "Oh yes, how silly of me. 'Yes sir, I realize I have a crippling mental disorder. But you'll never believe it! That's not even the beginning. No no, let me tell you about the _fun _stuff. That's right, not only do I have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but sometimes I completely lose control of my body and mind and dissolve into complete hysterics!"

"Yo, man. Chill. Having mental problems ain't your fault, Dee. Are you listening? Dude, look at me," I coaxed, snapping my fingers. He looked back down, his cheeks red with emotion.

"It's not your fault, okay? You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Get it?"

He puffed his cheeks out. "Easy for you to say."

"That's because I know it's true. It's about time you did too."

I took his good hand in my own, feeling ridiculously affectionate for the skinny nerd. Guess that's what happens when ya get to know someone so well. I think, in that moment, I would have given a limb to make him feel better. But at the same time, I was starting to enjoy the feeling of being needed by him. Because I was. Needed, I mean. I was starting to notice just how much I was needed, yknow? It was a little overwhelming to think someone had that much faith in someone like me, but hey, I'd take it.

"You're gonna be just fine, ya hear?" I heard myself whisper, feeling my hands hold his tightly. He just had to understand.

The kid looked at me and smiled, as if he was really, really, trying to believe me, but also a little scared to. I didn't blame him.

"Kev, I- uh, thanks. I like you."

(Kevin: 0 Dee: 1)

_Wait._

_What?_

.

.

.


	19. Chapter 19- Dessert

I don't mean to be an idiot. I don't. And honestly, I'm not dumb, yknow, I just sort of _look _stupid. Heck, I know I look like an idiot. I'm not sure why, exactly, but I do. It's that whole dumb-jock thing, I swear. Apparently if ya play sports it means you can't do anything else- like the sciences, or art, or math. I mean, sure, I'm no genius, but I'm not stupid! I can decent grades if I want. I mean, for the most part, I don't really care, but if I did, I'd look just as smart as the next nose-in-a-book.

So no, I'm not stupid. But heck, when Dee just _said that, _I sure acted like I didn't know a thing.

.

"Huh?" he said, looking one part lost and two parts horrified. It was at this point that it occurred to me that it may have been a mistake to say something sensitive so brashly. I was actually quite shocked (and now embarrassed) at my confidence. I'm not even sure what I meant- was I displaying harmless affection crudely, or was I so foolishly revealing my deeper feelings of attraction?

By the look on his face, it didn't seem to matter. I had messed up, and now I had to do some serious damage control. My body protested me, however. I couldn't seem to form words, as if I were suddenly paralyzed.

"I-I...uh.." I mumbled, knowing there were a lot of things I could say, and probably should say, but I continued to stay silent, like a mute. Curse my wicked tongue! I was perfectly able to to say the very thing I would have liked to avoid every bringing up, and now only moments later I am completely incapable of speech! What had become of me?

The dumbfounded athlete blinked twice, his dark eyes clearing a bit before he spoke.

"Wait...really?" he asked, his body tensing slightly. _Now I've done it. _Of course he was uncomfortable with my declaration- I had hardly given him a warning of any kind. How incredibly selfish it was to spring that on him. What was I to do? Surely, I couldn't take it back now, I'd acted just as shocked, giving away any chance I might have had at retracting the meaning of my words. No, no, I was stuck now. I had nothing left to offer but the truth, as it were.

"Er...Yes?" I tried, feeling horribly vulnerable. I knew there was no possibility of him sharing the feeling. I had no delusions to expect any sort of affection from him. In fact, I had been quite content in knowing that he would never feel the same. Relationships were complicated, and I was perfectly content with the way things were between us. I now feared things could no longer be as they were only moments before. I truly, truly had been a fool.

"Like... a crush?" he asked, leaning back a bit to make me look him in the eye, as my pupils were concentrated on his knee. I glanced up bashfully, my face quickly heating up.

"I-In a manner of speaking, yes," I said quickly, pulling my uninjured hand from his now frozen grip, wringing my hands together nervously. It hurt, but I welcomed the small distraction, and it felt as if I deserved some punishment for the awkwardness I had caused.

I watched him look down at his hand, then back at me, then back down at his hand. He closed his eyes, lifted his head, and took a quick, deep breath, letting it out in a sigh that made him look like he was doing yoga, and for a fleeting moment I almost considered laughing. But then he looked at me, smirked, and shrugged.

"Okay. Rad."

.

_Excuse me?_

I stilled, now the one in complete shock. Did he just brush my confession off? Was he just casual about me spilling something that is directly related to him? Was he not bothered by what I had said? Was he not feeling awkward or inclined to deny me?

Now I was really lost.

"Here," he said, lifting a hand towards me. "Stop fidgeting, I'm not done with that bandage." I released my tight grip on the injury and held it out to him, letting him attend to it while trying very hard not to stare at him. He looked completely at ease, despite what had just transpired. It was actually pretty impressive, just how calm he was about everything. I wanted to thank him for not shutting me down. I was well aware he did not share the affection, but confirming my suspicions would only serve to injure my ego and heart.

I wasn't sure how to thank him.

"I'm, uh, that is, what I mean to say is-"

He shrugged. "You know what? That was unexpected. But hey, I'm glad you told me, yknow? It probably wasn't easy to say."

_It was, but had I been in a more sane state of mind, it wouldn't have been._

"Thanks," I blurted out, wanting to move on from the subject, but knowing he deserved my gratitude.

"No problem Dee my man! Here, flex your fingers. Is that too tight?"

.

.

.

Later that week, I had the privileged of having dinner with Barr family, this time, with Mr. Barr present. Kev told me it was pretty rare for guests to be over when he was home, but apparently he had wanted to meet me. Which I found odd...we had never met, at least, not since I was a child. I'm sure I ran into him at some point then, due to how much trouble my friends and I got into with the other children. I could not remember his name, nor what he looked like, and I especially didn't know much about his character. Was he curt and protective like Kev's mother? Was he carefree and loud like Kev? I could only guess.

What I wondered, really, was the reason behind the invitation. I'm sure Kev and his mother had mentioned me at some point, for good or bad I didn't know. Needlessly to say, I was really quite nervous to meet him, especially after my blunder with Kev not a week before. _Had the kind athlete told his parents about my terrible confession? Were they angry with me for showing their son such an affection and were preparing to forbid our friendship? What if they hated me? Would they kick me out? Would Kev hate me? Oh lord, what if I had an attack while in their home?! What would I do? Would they call the mental hospital and have them take me away, never to be seen again?! I'd be locked in a padded room and drugged for the rest of my life, all alone in the confines of my own mind and body without a single soul to-_

"Dee!"

"Ah!" I hollered, dropping the books in my arms and jumping nearly a foot in the air. I put a hand to my chest, turning to see a concerned ginger inspecting me carefully.

"Woah, hey, you alright?"

I took a couple deep breaths, putting a hand on the cool locker wall and putting my forehead on the back of my palm, shutting my eyes. He'd startled the daylight out of me.

"I'm fi-fine. You scared me," I said breathlessly, breathing in and leaning away from the lockers. I stooped down to get my books, which had fallen to and on top of my fee.

"Yo, here. Let me help," he offered, grabbing two of the books before I could reach. He then looked at my arms a moment, shook his head, and took all the books from my grip. "Yknow what, give em to me. You're jittery. You're gonna' drop em' again."

I nodded, letting him take them. I was in no mood to argue.

"Hey, so, dinner's at six tonight. I mean, I figured you'd just hang with me till then, but if you don't feel like it, that's cool. You know what I mean," he said, looking a bit hesitant.

"Oh, uhm, sure, I'd love to er, 'hang out' until then. I will have to drop my things off at my home, of course, but-"

"Actually, I was thinking we should hang at your place until dinner. Ma's gonna be all over the place cooking, and it's probably best to stay out of her way, yknow? I mean, if that's cool."

I cocked an eyebrow. I had been over at the Barr's residence many times while the lady of the house cooked up enough food to feed an army. I was far desensitized to the clang and clatter of food preparation. What made this any different? Perhaps Madeline Barr got even more easily agitated when her husband was coming home. I knew that he didn't come often.

But perhaps there was another reason.

It couldn't be that Kev didn't want me there...right? It didn't seem to make much sense, but something in the back of my mind told me that there was something rather odd going on. I did my best to brush it off as no big deal, but that didn't make the curiosity go away, nor did it make me feel any more reassured about tonight. In fact, it only made me more worried that I was not welcome. Perhaps he _had _told his mother and father about my terrible awful doing, and they were uncomfortable with it. Mrs. Barr _was_ well-known as a devout Christian. Her business life and support of the baseball team were not the only things she was well-known for in the community. Oh no, the Barr woman was head of every Christian bake sale, and had single-handedly designed and _made _the entire Christian choir's uniforms.

I also knew that in many Christian faiths, relationships (or potential feelings of affection) between two people of the same gender was...frowned upon. Sometimes even taboo. I hadn't thought about it much, but as it all came together, I realized that perhaps to the Barr family, I was, well, _different_ at best. If they had any idea about my feelings for their son, I could very easily understand their aversion to me. For all I knew, they thought people with homosexual feelings were the devil incarnate.

_This isn't good._

Realizing I had completely left Kev hanging, I cleared my throat and put on my most convincing smile.

"Why, of course. We wouldn't want to disturb your mother. Let me grab my bag."

.

On the way to my home, Kev kept fidgeting, moving the textbooks in his arms one way, then the other, and back again. He seemed lost in thought, glaring slightly at the ground ahead of him. I was growing rather concerned, in fact. I was not accustomed to Kev being quiet, nor looking this frustrated. I wasn't sure what to say or do, and I almost felt a bit of a wall between us. Maybe it was all just in my head, but I couldn't help but think that his glum exterior had something to do with me.

"...Kev?"

He snapped his head up, glaring at me a moment before his face relaxed slightly. "Yeah? Sorry, I keep spacin' out."

"No, no that's quite alright...I just, I wanted to make sure you were alright. You look a little disgruntled."

"Dis-what now?"

"Disgruntled. Similar to agitated, or confused."

He snorted slightly, looking forward. "Yeah, I guess. I dunno man, I just got a lot on my mind, yknow? It doesn't happen that often, huh?"

I must have only looked more troubled, because he laughed and threw an arm around me, rubbing the top of my beanie until it almost fell off.

"Stop lookin' so down, dude. You look like a lost puppy or somethin'. I'm totally cool, okay? It's good."

"Are you sure?" I asked, trying very hard not to think too much about the physical affection he was showing me.

"Oh yeah. 110%."

.

At about five thirty, Kev and I left for his home. He claimed that if were a minute late, his mother would have his head, and if she was angry enough, mine as well. It was less than five minutes later that we arrived, shrugging out of our shoes when a loud noise caught my attention.

I watched as a large black truck pulled into the driveway, and out of that truck came a tall, well built man I could only assume was Kevin's father. The man wore a flannel shirt, cowboy boots and the expression of a man who didn't take a no for an answer. I quickly stepped away from the door, not wanting to be in the way, and Kev followed suit. The man approached the door and swung it open. Seeing his son first he grinned, grabbing the equally ginger male in a bear hug.

"Kevin, how's it goin', boy?" he bellowed, his voice just as carefree as his son's, which brought me a lot of needed comfort. Perhaps he wasn't as intimidating as he had first appeared. If so, I had a chance at convincing him that I was in fact, no threat to him or his son. Maybe they wouldn't hate me.

"'M good, Dad. How's the work?"

"As shitty as always, son," he said, letting the boy go. Kevin stumbled back a step, looking absolutely tickled. I had rarely seen him so happy... Which is to say, that while Kev was a happy person, this went beyond amusement and confidence. He looked up to his father, I could tell. _It must be very difficult for him to be separated from his father so often._

It was at this point the large Barr man noticed I was there, and his face turned from affectionate to a little surprised and a lot curious.

"You gonna introduce me, or what?" he asked the boy in the red hat, who huffed.

"Yeah yeah. Dad, this is D- uh, Edd. Eddward Marion. Dee, this my dad," he said simply, gesturing to his father affectionately. I nervously held out my non-injured hand, and to my great pleasure he shook it.

"P-pleased to me-et you sir," I said, feeling horribly embarrassed.

"Nice to see ya'gain, Marion," the man said. Calling me by my last name would normally feel awkwardly formal, but his tome suggested warmth and familiarity. I had a feeling he called a lot of people by their last names.

Someone cleared their throat, and I dropped Mr. Barr's hand to turn and see Madeline Barr with her hands on her hips, no apron in sight.

"Boys, go wash up," she ordered, her eyes stuck on her husband's face, amusement and spite sparkling in her green eyes.

"Yes ma'am," Kev said, tugging me by my sleeve up the stairs. I faintly heard Kevin's mother say 'you're late' before the Barr man laughed loudly, moving towards her. I smiled.

After we washed up, we returned to the dinner table where a very large spread took over every inch of the mahogany table. The pride on Madeline Barr's face was almost giddy. I knew she took great pride in her ability to cook, and it showed.

"Alright, eat up. If I see any leftovers, you're all in trouble."

After everyone was served, Mr Barr turned to Kevin and I with a rather curious expression.

"So, we haven't seen you around in a while, Marion. But Madeline tells me you two have become thick as thieves. I think it's great Kevin has at least one intelligent friend. How has life been treatin ya, boy? You still gettin yourself inta trouble with those hooligans?"

I couldn't help but fidget a bit. This wasn't subject I breached lightly, and if it were someone my age, I wouldn't have answered.

"Uh, no sir. I'm afraid both the other Eds have, er, moved away. I haven't seen them in quite some time, actually." I could feel my hand shaking against my foot. Kev, who was sitting beside me, nudged me with his knee and smirked in a knowing way. He was trying to comfort me. I smiled back.

"That's too bad, but I'm glad you found ol Kevin here."

I heard Kev scoff like his father was being ridiculous, but I nodded seriously. I was very lucky to have the ginger in my life. If he hadn't been there for some of my attacks, I didn't know where I would be. I owed him quite a bit...

The rest of the dinner went pretty smoothly, including loud laughter, warning looks from Kevin's mother, and more questions from Kevin's father about what I had been up to since our childhood. I avoided speaking of my parents and my current ailments, but Kevin's father didn't seem to notice.

The trouble came when Kevin's mother got up to get dessert. Kevin was in the middle of telling a story when my fingertips started to tingle and my head began to swim. A deep despair took over my chest, and I could not believe that was really about to have a problem, here, in Kev's home with both of his parents present. Terrified and unsure about what to do, I snapped towards Kev and gripped his knee.

"...and you would not believe the way he to-"

his eyes met mine, his hands paused in the air, his voice still. He looked startled, knowing exactly what was happening. He looked at his father, then at me, then back at his father.

"Uh be right back, okay?" With that he stood, grabbing me by my upper arm and helped steer me out of the room. The world began to spin, and my ears became fuzzy. My throat clenched and I stumbled, crying out.

Arms tightened around my chest, dragging me. I tried to pry them away. They were suffocating me! I couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't get free I just wanted out I wanted to breathe I needed I couldn't I couldn't-

"shhh. Can you hear me? Dee? Hey. Dee. Listen to me, alright? You're okay."

My eyes were shut tight and I tensed, confused and scared. My hands gripped my hair, pulling my head towards my knees. It felt too loud, too painful, too bright...

"Hey, buddy. I know you're scared. I got you, okay? You're gonna get through it. I'm not gonna let it get you. You'll be okay soon. Promise."

"I-I'm so s-sor-ry. I didn't mean-n to tell y-you."

"Huh? Tell me w- oh. Dee, hey, man listen to you. Don't apologize. Ain't nothin' wrong with tellin' me that. Nothing at all. I'm not mad or nothin' okay? Don't worry. Just breathe right now, okay? Just try to breathe."

So I did.

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After Dee promptly excused himself (much to Madeline's chargin), the Barr family sat down for an awkward dessert.

"So, is anyone gonna tell me what just happened, or...?"

Madeline looked at her son expectantly. He glares back.

"Seriously? You'll tell him what the kid said but you never mentioned this?"

"Mentioned what?"

"The kid gets...anxious sometimes. Can't help it. He's okay after a minute, but they scare the daylight out of 'em."

"Son?"

"Yeah?"

"You look pretty freaked out yourself."

Kevin glared at the table, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Yeah, well, it happens. It's not like you run into someone with that kind of issue- especially one that has some crush on you. It's not...easy."

His father smirked fondly. "Life ain't easy. Get over it."

At this, the athlete stood. "Y'all don't get it. I just...never mind. Thanks for dinner, Ma."

He walked away with his dishes in hand, angry and a little disappointed.

"Kevin."

"What?" The boy snapped, turning to see his father's amused face.

"Your mother didn't tell me what the boy said. But I'm pretty sure I know."

It was officially the worst day of Kevin's life.


	20. Chapter 20- Alcohol

*****Hey...psst...Candlessflame...*blows kisses*...you're cool. I'm glad I'm your second favorite, and I completely agree with you, l0velyfe is amaze-balls. Get an account so I can more personally tell you how much I adore you. *hugs and kisses***

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DEE'S POINT OF VIEW

I walked up to Kev, ready to apologize. He was surrounded by a couple other boys, who I knew were on the baseball team. While a few months ago I would have found their presence a bit deterring, now I was used to seeing them around my friend, and didn't usually pay them much mind. It was only when I heard the things they were saying that I hesitated.

"Dude, are you serious? C'mon man, just this once. I swear we won't be stupid about it or anything, and it's only a couple friends. Live a little, yknow?"

The redhead shook his head a bit, putting his crossed arms over his chest. "No thanks, man. I told you, it's just not my scene, okay? Have fun though."

When I approached the boy trying to convince Kev of something (Jared, I think his name was), sighed, almost rolling his eyes. "Whatever dude." With that, he walked off with the other boy, looking a bit miffed.

Kevin turned to walk away and bumped into me, startling him and causing me to stumble a bit.

"Dee! I didn't know you were there. How long have you been standing there?"

"I, uh, just walked up. I just wanted to apologize about last night. It was horribly rude of me to walk out like that, especially after your parents were so kind to invite me over like tha-"

"Dude," Kev said, sounding tired and rubbing his eyes. "We've been over this like seriously, a million times. It's not your fault, and I know that. Why would you apologize for something you can't control, huh? It's silly. C'mon. Let's get outta here. I'm so sick of being here."

With that, he pushed on my shoulder to turn me around and walked away, expecting me to follow. I blinked, surprised, before hurrying to catch up with him. Something was off. Kev was rarely upset. Many people thought he was an angry person, and I didn't blame them. When he did get upset, he was poor at hiding it. But for the most part, he was really a rather joyful person. He was naturally level-headed. I had never felt slighted by him.

When I was able to catch up with him I tried to think of what had caused him distress. Was it those boys? Had they been pushing him to do something that made him uncomfortable? Or had my presence disturbed him? Was I to blame? He wasn't...sick of me, was he?

He walked out of the building and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing his eyes and sighing. I watched him with growing concern, silently fearing he was about to write me off.

He groaned, dropping his hands and scowling at the ground. "I'm so pissed," he admitted quietly, almost looking like he was angry to be angry.

"What happened?" I asked meekly, taking a step closer to him.

"It's so stupid. And those guys- they need to get a life. Honestly, it's so old. They're convinced to make me party with them, and I swear, if they ask me one more time, I'll clock em'. I don't wanna keep them from havin' fun, I just don't wanna drink, yknow? Like, I'm not an idiot. Fucking alcohol rots your brain. I gotta save what I got, yknow? And, and, they're so stupid when they get drunk. How many times do ya gotta black out before it's your last one? It's so...dumb, man."

"I had no idea you were being pressured into something like that," I said sadly, simultaneously wishing he had told me sooner and happy he told me at all. "That's not very fair of them, especially when you've made it clear that you aren't interested. It must be very frustrating."

He shrugged. "Yeah, well, shit happens."

"Indeed. But, if you don't mind me prying...that doesn't seem to be the only thing bothering you."

The athlete put his hands in his pockets and looked at the horizon a moment before meeting my eyes. He looked a bit torn, and it showed. His dark eyes looked guarded, almost hesitant.

"Nah, it's no biggie. C'mon. Let's just go home, yeah?"

It was a comforting invitation, and I happily agreed.

"Yes, alright."

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When we arrived at the Barr residence we quickly scaled the staircase to the young athlete's room. I took my favorite spot on his bed, my back against the headrest and a pillow in my lap. It had occurred to me that I had never felt comfortable to take residence on other person's bed before, especially without explicit permission. Even the Eds and I had our boundaries, and I never pushed them. With Kev, however, I felt welcome enough to relax on his most private of furniture.

He sat on the other side of the bed, next to his window, with his back on the wall. He fiddled awkwardly with a pair of sunglasses, turning them over in his hands over and over. We sat in silence a few moments before I realized I was starting to doze off. I had fallen asleep at the boy's house a few times, but I knew it would be wrong to lose consciousness when something was so clearly bothering my poor friend.

"Why do you think your friends keep bothering you when you've said no in the past?" I asked softly, hoping I wasn't being nosy. I really was curious, however- it didn't make sense that they would continue to pressure someone who so clearly wasn't interested.

"Because," he sighed, glaring at the sunglasses in his hands, "they legit believe that the only way to be happy is to get drunk and party every weekend. I mean, I'm sure they have a lot of fun doing it, right? Like they think they're super cool and stuff. And I don't care. But what then? They get addicted? They do something stupid that gets them arrested or injured? They die of alcohol poisoning? Yeah, sounds _super fun."_

He tosses the sunglasses over to his desk, where they landed on a pile of papers. My mouth turned down into a frown, unsure as to help him feel better. I took the pillow off my lap and scooted near him, putting a hand on his shoulder. I struggled to think of what to say, but I really felt the need to try and console him.

"It seems to me that while you are annoyed with their persistence, you are also concerned for their health. Is that true?"

He shrugged. "I mean, yeah. They don't even care- and I don't get it. How can you not care? It makes no sense, I swear to God."

"Well," I tried turning to him slightly, "luckily it shouldn't be very long until the long-term decision making part of their brain is fully functioning. Perhaps by then, your friends will understand the possible consequences for their actions. I'm sure will have to learn the hard way, but most people do learn. By being their good example, I'm sure you are making an influence, even if you do not see it. You may have made someone think twice, or kept someone from future mistakes."

My athlete said nothing, but grabbed my discarded pillow and set it on my lap before lying on it, closing his eyes in scowl and keeping his arms crossed.

"Stupid kids…givin' me a headache," he muttered. I laughed lightly, patting him on the arm as comfortingly as I could.

"Oh, don't look so sour. It doesn't suit you."

He smirked, opening an eye and raising an eyebrow. "No? What suits me then?"

I sat a little straighter, putting a finger in the air. "Well, like most people, you look best when you're relaxed and happy." I laughed, poking him in the forehead where his frown lines were most prominent. "Hard to imagine when you're so stressed out."

He took a deep breath, attempting to let loose. "How's that?"

I laughed again. "Much better."

.

The panic attacks were becoming slightly less frequent, but when they happened, they seemed so much longer. Instead of two minutes, they were ten. Instead of being able to fake a restroom pass in class, I had to run out and then get the absence excused later. It was becoming more difficult to hide what was really happening. The administration knew, but per my request, were not sharing the information unless it was necessary. The last thing I needed was to be a part of the teacher-to-teacher gossip.

After one such attack, I lay on the concrete ground behind the school, breathing out little smoke clouds. I was shivering. I closed my eyes- I couldn't fall asleep, but the morning light was burning my irises. Kevin, who had been patiently sitting next to me, pulled me near him, keeping me warm and helping me come down from the hysteria. As much as I hated (truly, and I didn't use that word lightly) the attacks, I had to admit moments like these almost made it worth it. I felt safe and wanted, without a worldly care to interrupt the quiet peace that Kevin and I shared.

"Dee, check it out," Kevin whispered near my ear, pointing towards the soccer field. I followed where he was pointing, and saw a family of deer crossing the grass field slowly. In the sun light they seemed to be glowing, the male deer's antlers shining like a crown made of ivory.

A baby deer turned to us, cocking its head slightly. I figured he was trying to figure out who or what we were. He took a few steps closer, sniffing the air. Kev and I watched in awe, staying as still and as silently as possible. After a moment the deer turned away, continuing to walk with his family.

"Pretty cool, huh?" Kev asked, his voice low and quiet. I nodded, moving closer to rest my head on his shoulder. He responded by pulling me tighter to him.

We stayed there until the bell rang to dismiss classes.

As we returned into the school building, I walked arm in arm with Kev, not really taking in the scene around me. I had, as Kev once put it, 'zoned out'. Which was unfortunate, because as we turned a corner Kev abruptly let go of me. I later learned it was to avoid someone in our path. Someone who I, being as clumsy as awkward as I was, ran straight into, making the other person stagger back and causing me to fall to the floor on my bottom.

"What the- _you." _a loud, angry voice said. I shook my head, blinking a few times before looking up into the scowling face of Ricky Holland. I scooted backwards a bit, scrambling to stand as my hands shook wildly. Ricky quickly stepped up to me, our noses only inches apart. He stuck a finger to my chest, a snarl laced in his words.

"Watch where you're goin', nerd," he spat, the smell of cheap cologne and marijuana filling my nose.

"My ap-pologies," I stammered, holding my hands up in defense. He seemed to enjoy my submission, and grinned a bit, relaxing his fists just a little until someone shoved him aside.

"Hey! Whad'yo think you're doin', Holland?" an angry redhead growled, stepping in front of me. _Uh oh, _I thought. _He's gonna make him angry._

Ricky took only a split second to register the surprise before he jumped up and shoved back, sending Kevin (who hadn't been expecting it) to fall straight into me, both of us falling unceremoniously to the ground. I gasped as the athlete's weight came crashing down on top of me, feeling a sharp pain in my elbows and back. Kevin quickly got back up and I rolled out of the way, standing gingerly a few feet from where the two boys stood. I was going to be bruised, but I didn't think I had broken anything. I looked up to see a full blown brawl between the two boys.

Holland had Kevin in a headlock, but before I could think to help him, he stomped on Hollands foot with his boot heel and slipped out of his grip, putting a foot behind Holland before pushing him, causing the boy to fall heavily to the ground. Kevin then kicked him once, twice, before he leaned down and glared at him.

"Leave the kid alone, you fucking bastard. I won't tell you again," the words grating on everyone who heard. I had never seen Kevin look so angry. He wiped blood that dripped from his mouth and turned to me.

"C'mon," he said, and I followed without a sound. We hurried out the school's front doors, walking swiftly across the street and towards Kevin's neighbor hood. Only where we were out of earshot did I turn to him, my face full of concern.

"Are you alright?" I asked, my voice shrill with worry. I stopped him, looking him over carefully. He had a busted lip and was rubbing a good scuff mark on his arm but looked fine otherwise. He smirked at me, shrugging.

"Yeah, I'm good. Nothing a little R&amp;R can't fix, yknow?"

I opened my mouth, then shut it. I was still trying to process what had just transpired.

"Why-? I don't-"

Kevin threw an arm around me, continuing to walk. "Kid, if you're questioning me at this point, you're either hopeless or I've done something horrible in the universe to deserve this."

"No! Not at all, I am incredibly grateful! Please don't take that the wrong way, I just...I'm not sure, you know, if it's worth it to-"

I was silenced as Kevin's arms came around me and held me tightly, my words muffled by his coat.

"Yeah, I need you too, man," he said, in a quiet, sarcastic tone. He let me loose, grabbed my hand kept walking, dragging me along with him for the rest of the way.

I was far too confused and delighted to protest.

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**More hospitals, emergency withdrawals, and a move later, I am finally home and in okay shape. I hope. Suffice to say it has been a very bumpy road this last couple of weeks but I am hoping to be more consistent in the future. **

***hugs and kisses***

**-wise**


	21. Chapter 21- Spencer

**DEE'S POINT OF VIEW**

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I walked down the hall, attempting to right my books so that all the spines pressed against my side right side up- I couldn't stand it any other way. It was difficult to keep from dropping them while I rearranged them, so I was unaware that I had stopped in the middle of the hallway. Someone, who no doubt hadn't noticed my halting either, walked into my back, causing me to stumble forwards, dropping one of my books unceremoniously.

"Wah-hey! Oh, sorry man, I didn't see you," a voice said from behind. "Here, lemme grab the book for you." The curly haired blonde stepped into my view, crouching to grab one of my textbooks, putting on my other books gently. He looked up into my face and froze, his eyebrows raising slightly.

"Uh, hiya. Sorry for smacking into like that," he offered, his face going red. Only then did I realize who it was, and I could feel my cheeks turning a similar color.

It was Spencer, the young freshmen who I had not only scared half to death during an attack, but who had walked in on me washing my hands after they were injured, tipping poor Kev off. I could only imagine the horrible things he assumed about me and my present condition, and I almost gagged to know that someone must think that I was _that _crazy.

Then again, he wasn't exactly off, was he? Given his position it would be a logical conclusion. Delirious hysteria in the locker room, passing out without reason, unexplained injuries, and a strange connection to his team's captain. I knew, I knew that I had mental illness handicaps, but that was so much less suffocating than knowing that _someone else _knew you had serious mental issue. Someone who had no context. No reasons. Just the physical consequences of such issues. What did he assume, I wondered? Did he think I was doing it for attention? Did he think it someone else's fault? Did he assume Kevin was somehow involved in the cause or treatment of my problems? Did he wish me well...or did he wish me harm for things he could not believe were not my own doing? I knew that mental health stigmas tended to blame the victim for their ailments, and unfortunately, those stigmas proved to be true. Those who did not seek help, did not do what they knew they could or refused to admit they had a problem often caused many of their own problems. I could be considered at fault, couldn't I? I had a counselor, but not for the reasons I truly needed, I had no plan or schedule for treatment, and I had allowed my own issues to completely take over my life. Perhaps if he did believe I was the one at fault for my present condition, he would not be far off.

"-right?" he asked, snapping me out of my thoughts abruptly. I looked at him and chuckled nervously, having no idea what he just asked me.

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" I asked shyly, hoping I could end this altercation as soon as possible.

"Oh. You're name's Dee, right? I think that's what Barr calls you..."

I smiled, nodding. "Yes, that's my nickname. Spencer, yes?" I asked in turn, not wanting to be rude.

"Yeah, yeah, that's me. Uhm. Where ya headed?"

This caught me off guard. Why on earth would he want to know? Immediately I tensed a bit, knowing I hadn't truly healed from the bullying I had received years prior. I couldn't help it- I knew that I had trust issues with other high schoolers, especially ones that paid attention to one as uninteresting as myself. They had no reason to be friendly to me, especially not someone who had by some strange misfortune seen me at my very lowest. To say I was cautious of him was an understatement. However, Spencer had shown me no will to speak of, and hadn't even been in the school during the bullying, so it would be downright hypocritical to label him as hostile without any proof.

"Oh, just to Mrs. Hill's room," I said non-nonchalantly as I could. I had actually just parted ways with Kev, who had practice this period. The team was gearing up for the semi-finals and...

_Wait, why wasn't Spencer with them, then? He was one of the best players, he would have to be at the practice. _

"Can I walk with you?" he asked almost hesitantly, jerking his head in the way of Mrs. Hill's room.

_Now I'm trouble, _I thought suspiciously, trying not to show the slight panic taking over. But no, no, I shouldn't assume...

"Of course," I answered, both of us walking slowly towards the classroom. Spencer looked incredibly uncomfortable, and I almost pitied him. Why did he feel the need to talk to me? What was his motive?

"Barr says you're wicked smart. He once swore you were psychic," Spencer said seriously, which made me laugh aloud. What a ridiculous notion! Me, a psychic! I could barely understand my thoughts, let alone anyone else's.

"I assure you," I said lightly between chuckles, "I am nothing of the kind. I'm not even that intellectually gifted. I just like learning, I guess."

"Well, you'd fool me. Barr, he-uh, I think he's also pretty worried about you."

My face went a shade paler. _Oh no. Oh no no no._

Noticing my silence, the freshman sighed.

"I'm sorry. I know it's none of my business, but like, it kinda freaked me out when you passed out in the locker room and when you, uhm, were all beat up. I know that you guys really made the Holland boys pretty mad, and obviously you have your own stuff to worry about, right? It sucks I bet. And I know you probably didn't want me to know anything- and I'm not gonna tell anyone or anything- but uhm, I just thought that you should know that I kinda know how awful that can be. I had a friend once with problems kinda like yours. They're gone now, but they told me about it, I mean they told me how scary it was so I just wanted you to know that I kinda get it, yknow? I...I have your back, I guess."

I stared at the young boy, his face going absolutely red with embarrassment, his fists clenched in his jacket, the way his face showed humiliation, doubt and an eagerness I couldn't understand. He seemed desperate, almost afraid of what I would say.

It never occurred to me that I was not the only one who knew what it was like to be scared. Here I was, so concerned about my own problems, I didn't even think to consider that this other person had known the very struggles that I faced everyday. And despite whatever terror he was currently feeling, he had moved outside his comfort zone to try and comfort _me. _He had no reason to open up to a stranger, especially when I had tried so very hard to distance myself from him out of my own embarrassment. He was not only assuring me that he had no bad intentions towards me, but he also wanted me to know he was supporting me.

I placed a hand on his tense shoulder, feeling a little overwhelmed with my gratitude for his kindness.

"Thank you, Spencer," I said softly. "That means a lot to me."

He smiled a small half smile, looking from me to the ground. "Yeah, no problem. I'll see you around, okay? I'm gonna be late for practice and Barr will have my head."

"Yes, see you later."

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**KEVIN'S POINT OF VIEW**

**.**

"Yo! Spenc! You're late! What were you doing, chasing butterflies?"

The kid shrugged, hiding a grin. I rolled my eyes, he looked like he had just gotten his first kiss or somethin'. Spenc was a good kid, but sometimes I swore his head was in the fuckin' clouds. I called everyone to attention and began drills with them. Today we were running and doing some strength training. The team's strategy and form seemed pretty good, but by the end of the game they were totally wiped. If we wanted to get through to the finals, we were going to have to buck up. I put everyone into teams and sent them to do some relays. I had been paying closer attention and talking with Dee about how to get the guys to cooperate best. Dee once suggested that one on one competition between the boys might get them to practice harder. It worked like a charm. I had never called it a competition, but these guys were just looking to beat someone at something. I put em' in teams that matched their ability and let em' have at it. They were faster, smarter and they even got along better.

I walked around as the boys practiced various weight lifting, running, and baseball drills. Coach was out of town this week, so I had to do all the supervising. It was easy enough. I noticed a few of the guys were having a hard time with shoulder based lifts, and a few of them were pretty used to sprinting and cuoldn't handle long runs.

But Spencer today was on top of the world. It must have been a chick or something- cuz he seemed more determined to show off then usual. He was talented, sure- most Freshman wouldn't dream of making the team- but today he was almost superhuman. I laughed as he lapped the slowest runners, making stupid faces at em' as he passed by, which pissed the other dudes off and made em' run faster.

Dee was right, competition was the key.

.

After practice was over the guys returned to locker rooms to change. I knew Dee was waiting in the hallway just outside the locker rooms, as we had agreed to earlier that day. When I went out there I found em' laughing with none other than Spencer himself. I was totally confused.

"Okay cool. I'll see you later, yeah? Hey Barr, see you round." With that, the kid was gone. Dee turned to me with a pretty giddy face.

"Kev, you look like you've seen a ghost," he laughed, grabbing my arm and steering me toward the school's entrance.

"I think I have," I admitted. "Since when have y'all been buddies?"

He shook his head, linking his elbow in mine. for some reason, I felt better once he had. Like things were like they were supposed to be again.

"That's a strange story, actually. You will never believe what happened today."

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**Don't mind me I'm just the worst at updating ever. **

**I almost gave up on this story. Really, I did. But thanks to a couple reviews and a lot of time to think it over, I've decided to go for it once more. I'm gearing up for the best part of the story. **

**Thanks for sticking with me.**

***hugs and kisses***

**-wise**


	22. Chapter 22- Retrospect

**Y'all wanted more so here I am.**

**Enjoy my lovelies.**

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**DEE'S POINT OF VIEW**

I gasped awake, my entire body jolting violently at once as my limbs were suddenly freed from the paralysis of sleep, my breath coming out in quick short gasps. Half panicked and drenched in sweat, I kicked off my sheets and tugged my sweater off, moving to cooler side of my bed. I lay out on my back, pulling my hair out of my face and into an impromptu ponytail as I tried to calm my heartbeat. My jaw locked in frustration as the dread pooled around my chest and stomach.

_It's not real, _I chastised. _Whatever it was isn't real- you are in no physical danger here and there is absolutely no reason to be upset. _

Despite my inner monologue I tried very hard not to let my emotional desperation drive me to run from whatever it is that was bothering me. That was another thing. I felt afraid and horribly angry at something...but what I could not say. I felt scared of and lost because of a force I could not name- one that could very easily take over my mind in seconds. How could I overcome something I could not name nor detect? Was there anything at all? Or was it all just jam packed in my head, broken synapses and altered hormones creating a demon inside my brain that I had somehow created? How does one overcome _themselves?_

The paranoia and despair became muted by the sound of my intense loathing of filth, and I felt almost incapacitated by my disgust at how sweaty and disheveled I was. It was a big enough problem that it forced me out of my bed and into the bathroom next door, discarded sweater in hand. I took a quick, cold shower, making sure to double wash everything. I dressed myself in a simple t-shirt and cardigan, jeans and some converse before making my way down to the kitchen.

I really didn't feel like eating, but I managed to swallow down a can of mandarin oranges and a handful of nuts, which was more than I usually got. I checked my phone and was surprised to see a missed call and several text messages from Kev, telling me he had to leave early for school, and since I wasn't answering, told me he would see me later that day. I was a tad disappointed, but also felt a little relived I could spend the morning in quiet. I loved having the athlete around, but I also missed the silence that accompanied me to school.

The dread that I had felt in the early morning crept back up twice during the day. Once forcing me to take deep breaths to keep my cool, and another time sending me in a full fledged attack. I alerted Kev, who promptly followed me out of the classroom and outside, where I paced back and forth hopelessly until Kev took me by the shoulders and made me sit down. I put my head between my knees and breathed deeply until the fog passed and wished for the millionth time that I could just disappear.

"How we doin'?" Kevin asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. He had long learned to give me my space when I was recovering, just in case. I simply nodded, knowing there wasn't much to say. I slowly sat up, straightening my back finally and attempting to stand. Kev helped me to my feet- as I was half afraid I was going to pass out- but I managed to get back on my feet in good time. After a minute of deep breathing and finding my balance, I patted the hand currently resting on my upper arm.

"Thank you," I breathed. He slowly let his arm drop, carefully watching me out of the corner of his eye like he thought I wouldn't notice.

I did, and I wanted to laugh at how quickly I had let this person into my life, even though I truly couldn't imagine life without their needed support. Had I kept my guard up for just a bit longer, I wouldn't have been surprised if he had given up, knowing I could be as stubborn as he. Had he not gone looking for me the day he thought I was in trouble. Had he not pushed his way through my defenses, despite my earnest protests. Had he not been there every time I called, like I was top priority.

Perhaps I thought too highly of him. Surely, with my own infatuation I was biased in my opinion- and anyone could argue that what he'd done was nothing more than common courtesy but something told me it was more than that. Something told me he did it because he really, truly cared. It was a feeling I had become quite dependent on, and cherished greatly.

So, in my moment of thanks and adoration I took his hand, pulling him with me back towards the building. The more logical- and horrifically shy- part of my brain reminded me that I shouldn't show so much affection, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I had someone who was my ally, my friend and confidant. It was more than I could have asked for or deserved and I felt the need to show it. I planned to drop his hand once inside the school walls but hesitated, finally questioning what was and wasn't appropriate, given our relationship. Did I really have to let go?

My question was answered when Kev kept walking, his hand still comfortably resting in my own. He seemed a little flustered but determined, and I almost laughed at how serious he seemed about it. Maybe he was embarrassed. Maybe he was just as confused. For the moment, it really didn't matter and I surprised myself by shrugging off the speculations wiring themselves in my mind. I was overjoyed at the prospect of holding hands with the person I cared most about and for a moment, that was enough to satisfy me.

Of course, he couldn't hold on to me forever- nor I him. We broke contact just before entering the classroom, he allowing me to enter first, then waiting a minute for returning himself. I tried not to stare at him and take notes. After all, I really didn't want the other students to start making assumptions or connections between us. The school was a ripe place for gossip, and I was the last person who would like to be caught in that web of misinformation. Especially when I wasn't sure what the truth was anyway.

.

After class got out, Kev met up with me at my locker and non-nonchalantly leaned against the wall beside me.

"I keep forgettin' to tell ya. My parents are coming to the semi-finals and wanted to know if you'd sit with 'em. Ya don't have to- trust me, they get pretty obnoxious at this kinda thing- but they'll kill me if I don't ask ya."

This made me pause with my hand halfway to the book I was reaching for. "Your parents invited _me _to your game?"

"Uh, yeah? Why?"

"I just, I don't know," I stuttered, shrugging. "I didn't think I made a very good impression on them."

"Why? Cuz ya had a little issue while you were there?"

He sounded a little exasperated. I shrugged again. "Well, yes."

The tall ginger waved a hand dismissively, dropping the hand to clap my shoulder lightly. "Nah, they liked ya fine. They know it ain't your fault, and they get that. In fact, I think that's why they wanted you to come, so maybe y'all can get a second chance or somethin'."

"Huh," I said stupidly, reaching for the formerly forgotten text book. "Well, I suppose I can't say no to that then, can I?"

Kevin beamed a little more. "Rad. I'll let em' know. Trust me, it'll be fun. My parents get kinda crazy at sports events, so watch out."

"Well, I have to deal with your enthusiasm, don't I?" I said teasingly, shutting my locker. Kevin put an arm on my shoulder and laughed, steering me down the hallway.

"That you do, Dee. That you do."

.

The weather was getting impeccably warm and with summer break right around the corner, even I was itching for a little sun. Since Kev and I spent most of our afternoons together, we gradually moved our get togethers outside on the lawns and porches of our respective homes, enjoying the warmth and vitamin D. I learned Kevin had a bad habit of picking out grass by the handfuls and throwing them at me- often ending with me finding grass blades in my shirt and hair. I, on the other hand, preferred not to get my hands dirty or disturb the plants, but rather, observe them where they stood. I had a vast curiosity for botany, and enjoyed the beauty that it created immensely (as long as it stayed in the ground and away from my hair).

.

If someone were to see us from an outside view, they would notice that Kevin and I were as close as we were opposites. We were hardly seen apart anymore, spare his practices and my recovery time. I am now certain people must have seen us as a couple or at least as best friends, but if they did, I didn't hear any rumors. Sometimes I wonder if Kevin had anything to do with that. He was kind but he had boundaries, and I didn't know many that would cross them.

No, for a time we had the simplicity of just...being. It was a complicated sort of existence, what with his responsibilities and my handicaps. However, it was nothing if but real. There were still days I questioned why I still existed, and even more days where the darkness seemed to swallow me whole. There was never truly a time where I was free from my problems but I can honestly say I lived the best that I knew how. The best that _we_ knew how. We were not only great friends, but perhaps more like each others anchors, keeping us both safely within each others reach. Between the text lines and the quiet moments where we sat back to back in the grass, I was able to accept that he was beside me because he chose to be. It was not out of guilt or pity.

He didn't call out my name from across the hall because he felt like it was his responsibility.

He didn't find me after class and after school because duty told him to.

He didn't comfort me in the middle of psychological storm because of an unpaid debt.

He didn't slide his hand into mine bashfully because someone had made sure to remind him-

He did it because for some reason, by some strange miracle, he _wanted _to.

I didn't get it at the time.

I still don't really get it.

I do know, however, that he meant me the best. And, I knew, that he wanted me there.

.

In the end that was all that mattered.

.

In the end, that was when it all fell apart.

.

.

.

.

.

.

**(Now would be a good time to read Hiding Behind Enemy Lines, if you haven't.)**

***hugs and kisses***

**-wise**


	23. Chapter 23- Final

**DEE'S POINT OF VIEW**

The day of the baseball finals was hot, sunny and alive. The air itself almost felt electrified, like the energy from thousands of eager adolescents was fueling an atmospheric phenomenon. Make no mistake- Peach Creek high truly loved their baseball team. Perhaps more than I could understand, but I had to admit, the charisma was a bit contagious. It was nice to see people genuinely happy about something. It was unifying in a way, seeing all those teenagers who, on any other day, would be avoiding eye contact, coming together to support a fellow group of classmates. It almost made _me _want to cheer- and I had only ever raised my voice a couple of times in my lifetime.

_Who knows, _I told myself, _you may just find your rambunctious side once and for all. _

I almost laughed at the thought.

Regardless, I was more than happy to be an innocent bystander in the chaos. Thanks to Kev, I barely had a choice anyway. He had practically dragged me to every practice, every meeting, every pep rally... for whatever reason. I was no help to the team and I could see that my presence wasn't exactly invited, but if standing next to my favorite athlete as he rallied his fellow teammates and classmates to cheer simple, ludicrous chants made him happy, then so be it. I had become quite accustomed to the questioning glances pushed my way. The only person who didn't seem to hesitate at my being there was Spencer, who had turned into my unexpected ally. He often positioned himself between me and other players like some sort of buffer zone- something that I both appreciated and didn't understand. I couldn't fathom why he felt the need to protect me.

Was I in any danger?

I doubted it.

Whatever the case, I did my best to show my appreciation for the younger boy. He and I had become the strangest of friends, it would seem. We knew such intimate things about one another, and yet so little of the more normal things. He didn't often ask me personal questions, and our conversations were almost always light, but that wasn't a problem. He was supportive, and that was all I could have asked for. Up until the finals, he had never again witnessed one of my attacks (much in thanks to Kevin and I's system). Mostly, he was just a familiar, comfortable being in the room. I hated to think of him like some sort of body guard, but that was the position he had insisted on becoming. I was very grateful for it.

Especially the day of the game. Kev was busy all morning with preparations, and during the school's last pep rally and assembly, Spencer was quick to sit beside me and keep me company. At the beginning of our association, I had felt like I was pulling him away from his friends, but I quickly learned Spencer didn't have a lot of close friends on the team. He was perfectly content by himself, should he be asked to be. Today, of course, he was far from alone with hundreds of loud voices all around us.

"Are you nervous for the game tonight?" I asked, knowing that if it were _my _game, I would be terrified.

"Not really. I'm excited. I don't think we're going to lose, so that helps too," he admitted, laughing. "You comin', right?" he questioned in return, as if he hadn't noticed the team's captain pulling me by the sleeve to every game for the past month.

"Yes, I will be in attendance."

"Well, good! We haven't lost a game since you came around, I don't think. You're lucky."

It was my turn to laugh. "I highly doubt that, but if there's a chance you're right, then I must be there!"

"That's the spirit," he said lightly, looking around to admire the crowd. The sound of someone clearing their throat echoed through the room and silenced the student body. The principal stood the front of the auditorium with a microphone in hand. He paused, partially for the rest of the talking to cease, and partly (I suspected) for dramatic effect.

"Who's ready for the finals?" he demanded, and the school erupted into fits of whistles, screams, and cheers.

.

After I almost lost my hearing to the pep rally, I parted with Spencer to head for the outdoor track. I promised Kev the night before that I would meet him here- it was the only free time he had until after the game. It was only a minute before a green clad ginger could be seen on the other side of the track, grinning and running in my direction. He didn't even slow down, he simply rammed into me, picking me up off the ground and swinging in a circle before putting me down again. I laughed in surprise, reaching up to fix my hat as soon as my feet hit the tarmac.

"Well hello there," I breathed, barely able to contain my own smile.

"Hey Dee! You ready for tonight? We're gonna make fuckin' _history, _I swear ta God."

"Oh?"

"We beat these guys by more than six points, and we have the biggest win this town has seen in years, man. We're gonna kick ass and make Peach Creek look unbeatable. You should be honored just to be in the presence of such a legend!"

I chuckled, rolling my eyes, "oh yes, where _are _my manners? I assure you, oh-so-great-man-of-legends, as soon as you actually _win _the finals, I will show you my very great appreciation."

An almost devious grin split his face, and I swore I could actually see the mischief in his eyes. "Smart ass, this one. We're gonna cream them, no questions asked."

I put my hands up in defense. "I don't question your abilities, my friend. If anyone can pull off such a feat, it will be you."

He threw an arm on my shoulders, pulling me alongside him. "Let's walk. I'm too pumped to stand still."

We made our way around the track three times, all the while Kev telling me of his master plan for the game. His strategy? Annoy the other team as much as possible until their frustration caused them to become aggressive, and possibly, make them slip up. He said he knew the other team was known for their aggression, and he had every intention of pulling it out of them.

"The more you make them think they're above you the more they'll slip up cuz they're so full of themselves."

"Is that ethical?"

"You kiddin? That's half of the game! It's not all about the physical side of things, it's a pretty intense mental thing too. You'd lose every game if you didn't think you could win. You're the one who taught me that, Dee."

I considered that. "Fair enough. But be careful- I'm sure there are rules against actually getting other teams into fights."

"Aww, I didn't know you cared," Kevin said dramatically, holding a hand to his heart and sighing. After I lightly whapped him on the shoulder he laughed, dropping his hand and lacing it with mine. "No, don't' worry. I'm not getting in any fights. Not today. I just wanna mess with 'em is all."

"You're a cruel player, Mr. Barr," I teased, smirking. To this, he shrugged, not looking the least bit worried.

"I do what I can."

We finished the third lap and went back into the school without a word. He had a game to get ready for, and I had been craving some needed quiet time. We parted ways at the library door, where he dropped my hand to pull me in for a quick hug, both of us turning away and heading our separate ways. Something caught my eye as I started to enter the library, and I paused. Down the hall, leaning against the wall, were a small gatherings of teenagers. Unlike most of our peers, they were neither happy nor dressed in school colors. The familiar and cold eyes of Ricky Holland and his gang made me stop in my tracks. They were _all _staring at me.

Ricky raised a hand and blew a kiss to me, winking in an almost malicious way. I could feel myself almost shuddering. After a tense moment he stood up and walked away, smirking as he went.

_That cannot be a good sign._

_._

It was probably two minutes after the bell rang that I heard a loud voice calling for me from across the parking lot. I looked around, confused, before my eyes fell onto a large pick up truck with two energetic Barr's leaning out the windows.

"Marion! Get over here!"

Feeling a bit embarrassed by the very public greeting, I quickly made my way over to the truck just as the Barr's stepped out, both wearing Peach Creek jerseys. Madeline Barr wore a smug grin, one I knew was saved especially for this day. Mr. Barr, however, always looked as pleased as she did, and he showed his matching enthusiasm. He rounded the side of the truck and clapped me on the shoulder heavily, making me feel like a child again.

"How goes it, Marion?"

"I'm well, thank you."

Mrs. Barr turned to me, hands on her hips. "Would you like to help us set up? Kevin said you'd be tagging along for the evening."

"Set up? I'm sorry, set up what?" I inquired, racking my brain for what someone might bring to a baseball game. Mrs. Barr led me to the bed of the truck, opening the hatch to reveal what looked like enough food to feed the US National Coast Guard. I could see snacks, sweets and drinks of every type- so many I could barely comprehend how much time it would have taken to assemble.

"Good Heavens," I murmured, slightly horrified and incredibly impressed. Without skipping a beat, both Barr's took as much of the pile as they could lift and headed for the field. Needing no incentive, I joined in, grabbing a large jug of what appeared to be orange juice and a platter of assorted nuts. We set up camp right next to the home bleachers. The Barrs set up a couple of fold-able tables, put a white tablecloth atop, and piled the food on.

It took us four trips each, but we got all of the edibles to the tables. While we unwrapped and sorted the goodies, Mrs. Barr explained that both she and her husband had taken the week off work to get everything prepared. There wasn't a single item on the table that Mrs. Barr hadn't made from scratch. I shook my head, blown away by her dedication.

"Do you do this often for the team?"

"No, this is for special occasions. I always make some sort of spread for after games, but not nearly as big as this. This is the third time I've ever made this much food, and I'll be damned if the team doesn't win." She then shrugged, glancing out onto the diamond. "Well, win or loose, they'll be hungry." Her fierce eyes then settled on my face (something I never got used to- she was nothing if but powerful). "Obviously, Kevin's father and I will have to spend the game over here to watch over the table. You don't have to join us, but if you do, I'd love to have your help."

At this I brightened. This was my chance to show Kev's parents I wasn't _completely _useless. "Oh, I'd love to help! Please, just point me in the correct direction."

She nodded, and I took that as approval. She and I worked on filling cups for the next bit while Mr. Barr went to chat with the team. Kevin's mother informed me that Mr. Barr had been one of the little league coaches before work pulled him away for weeks at a time. Most of the boys grew up with him as their coach, and they looked up to him immensely. She told me that he made a point to say hello to them all before the game started, like some sort of good luck ritual.

"Kevin appreciates it. He might not act like it, but he hates being the leader. He hates the attention and telling people what to do. So when his dad does that- it probably helps Kevin most of all."

"He told you all of that?"

The bright eyed woman scoffed. "Of course not. You know Kevin- he doesn't share his frustrations very well. But I can tell."

"You must be very perceptive," I supplied, not looking at her as I filled an umpteenth cup with punch.

"Oh yes, I am. I can even read you."

I paused.

"You can?"

"Uh-huh. I knew about your anxiety before Kevin told me. And I knew about your feelings for Kevin before you told _him." _

My heart skipped a beat, and I almost dropped the cup in my hands. Every nerve in my body seemed to be a thousand times more sensitive. I didn't dare move or speak, choosing instead to stare holes into the tablecloth while my face lit up like a Christmas tree.

_Oh dear Lord. _

_What she must think of me. Oh no, she must think I'm some sort of heathen or whore or something akin to that I can't believe I was so obvious how could I have let something so important slip like that and oh God what if she told her husband and he-_

"Eddward."

"Yes?" I squeaked, snapping my head up. Seeing my expression, she set down what she was holding and turned to me.

"You look upset," she said carefully, her voice almost giving away no emotion.

"I-Well, I didn-n't exactly mean for you, er, anyone to know about that, uhm-"

"Why not?"

"Because" I explained, taking a deep breath in, "some people don't, uh, appreciate...that. I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable or offend you..."

Madeline Barr simply shook her head at me, turning back to what she was doing. After a tense moment, she spoke, her words just as steady and as precise as I had ever known.

"I've made this much food three times. I made it when Kevin became the baseball captain last Spring. I made it for the baseball final," she explained, gesturing to the table in front of us with a swing of her arm.

"I also made it when Kevin told me a gay friend of his had been physically abused by his family. The friend lived with us for over a month before moving in with an extended family member in a different state."

She again turned to me, this time with such a sincere expression that I couldn't look away.

"If you or anyone else were to tell me they were a part of that community, it would only make me more concerned about your safety. I do not believe in homosexuality, Eddward, but I would much rather be considered a friend to your kind than an enemy. It doesn't matter to me if you like boys more than girls and I'm proud I have a son you can both like and feel comfortable to share that kind of information with. I am a devout Christian woman, and as such, I will neither judge you or make you feel any differently. Understand?"

All I could do was nod at her, blinking rapidly.

We finished without another word.

.

.

It didn't take long for people to start showing up. They came in packs of three or four, the women wearing large sunhats and the men with coolers filled with soda, water or beer. I had been to the baseball games before, but I had never noticed how much of an outing it really was for the people of the city. People from all walks of life walked through the gates of the little high school. Their was a great number of young children, running around the field and tossing baseballs to one another. I wondered just how many of these children dreamed of playing these very games themselves. It was strange to think they had such ambitions so early in life- I certainly had never wished to play sports as a youth. I was far more content catching bugs and being roped into my friends' plans... which wasn't a bad way to spend a childhood. At some point I'm sure I tried to play the games other children played just to be included, but I can only imagine how well my young, clumsy self handled those kind of situations.

I laughed to myself. No, perhaps I simply wasn't born for that. I had been gifted with intelligence and curiosity, something I would be eternally grateful for. Sports got a lot of attention and praise, but at the end of the day, it was hard thinking and precision that made the world a better place (in my humble opinion). Athletes were revered for their strength, but engineers were known for their technological advances, something I found much more appealing.

...Not that there was anything wrong with sports, or enjoying them! In fact, I found it very beneficial for the community to have something to get excited about. Sport injuries aside, it was a very healthy way for the citizens of Peach Creek to ban together and have some mostly-friendly competition. That, and for people like Kev, it gave them an opportunity not only to show off their skills, but to engage in team and leadership positions at an early age. It was kind of like mock debate, where the participants engaged in physical battle instead of verbal. Plus, there were enough games that even if the team didn't win, they always had another chance.

Except for tonight, of course, because this was their final game. Hence the large amount of people, many of whom had come up to the table to say hello to the Barrs. Turns out that Mrs. Barr was the most popular woman in Peach Creek. It didn't surprise me in the least, given her position. I knew that people frowned upon her confidence and business personality (being a woman and all), but I suspected they also didn't want to get on her bad side. Kev once told me "if anyone could screw you over big time, it's Ma, and she knows it".

So she stood with pride, extending a warm welcome to anyone and everyone that crossed her path. She introduced me to quite a few of them, claiming I was her son's closest friend and her right hand assistant. I blushed at the compliment a bit, knowing I was contributing very little but appreciating the acknowledgement anyway. (It was also nice knowing Kev considered me his best friend).

We mingled until the game was set to start. The families found their places on the bleachers, the grass and the surrounding areas. Similarly, the other team's side of the diamond was filled with eager fans, many of whom shook hands with the people on our side.

The game started, Mr Barr returned, and the crowd was silent.

.

To be honest, I truly didn't know much about baseball at the time. Why should I? I had watched a few of the games, but other than that, I had no history with the sport. Mr Barr was very helpful and guessing from my expressions that I had little idea about what was going on, pointed out the good and the bad. He also knew quite a bit abut the players themselves and supplied me with information about the strengths and weaknesses of those in the spotlight. For example, Kev was a pretty rough player (both good and bad), but he often got caught up in what other people were doing. He couldn't help it- he was used to telling the players what to do. It made it hard for him to focus. He also taunted the other players, like he said he would. I could see him muttering under his breath and gloating his successes to the closest opposing player. By the third inning, the other team was seething with frustration, but Kevin was all smiles. He had them exactly where he wanted them.

It was a spectacular game, I think. The crowds were responsive, the players were ecstatic about Mrs. Barr's food, and like Kevin claimed, the Peach Creek baseball team "kicked ass". By the sixth inning, it was quite clear we were going to win. Many of the boys on Kevin's team caught onto his scheme and joined in, pestering the other team and driving them mad. By the beginning of the ninth, the Peach Creek fans were chanting victory, having no fear of losing.

It was the final home-run (and the third one by our team) that sealed the deal. Preformed by a boy named Jason Scott, the hit was perfect, and it went over the fence with the sounds of hundreds of cheers. After that, the other team had accepted their defeat and I had never seen the Barrs happier. Kevin ran over to the other boy and knocked him over before lifting him on his shoulders, both pounding their fists in the air. People from the winning side poured onto the diamond, surrounding the players and yelling their triumph.

Peach Creek High made history that night.

.

Amid the cheering throng of people, through the absolute chaos, I could hear a voice calling my name, and a moment later, a warm hand in mine. The hand tugged and twisted me through the madness, pulling me until we reached the edge of the field by the parking lot where there wasn't any people. I took my hand back, adjusting my hat, which had been bumped slightly to the side.

"Congratulations on your win!" I exclaimed, clasping my hands in front of my chest. The athlete grinned back, shrugging to appear modest, though I could tell he was absolutely ecstatic. His cheeks were red partially due his excitement, and partially because he still hadn't recovered from the game.

"Not a bad way to end the season, if I do say so myself," he admitted.

"Not bad? That was brilliant! You should be very proud!"

A cat like grin spread across his features and a smugness I had rarely seen on him was outlined in his posture. "Oh, I am. Don't worry.

"That reminds me. There's an after party at one of the player's house. You're around for everything else, so I'm sure you're the guest of honor. You comin'?"

At this, I hesitated. I really didn't want to go anywhere I wasn't clearly invited, and I could only imagine what kind of trouble the team was going to get into given what I heard about their partying habits.

"I don't know- perhaps this is a function that would be best for the team and just the team," I offered, trying not to be rude.

"Hey, don't feel pressured. But I'm sure you're welcome. The guys are way too happy about winning to care either way, anyway."

At this, I laughed slightly. "I'll consider it."

He clapped me on the shoulder. "Good man."

A familiar voice rang out, drawing our attention. The boy in question paused when he saw us huddled together, raising a brow in question but keeping a casual look about him. He stepped up beside me, taking his red cap off a moment to ruffle his hair. "What's up, y'all?"

Spencer, sensing Kevin's natural protectiveness, took a small step back. "I was checkin' if Edd was going to the party afterwards." he shrugged, taking another step towards the crowd. "Sounds like fun to me. See you guys there, okay?" and with that, he turned and walked off. I didn't know if it was because he actually had somewhere to be or if he thought it polite to let us be alone.

"Oh! I totally forgot. You don't have to go or nuthin', but the kid throwing it mentioned that you should tag along. They'll probably do something stupid later tonight, but for the first while it'll be awesome. You in?"

"Well, it sounds pleasant, but I-"

"Hey, man, if you don't wanna go don't. But I'd be with ya the whole time."

Though it wasn't physically possible, at his promise a little bit of me melted. Even when it was clearly supposed to be his moment, he was trying to comfort and me and make sure I was comfortable. It seemed that no matter the position or event, the young athlete had a strong priority. That priority was me, of all people. How could I possibly say no to such a proposition?

"Well, alright then."

"Really?"

"Really."

He rubbed his open palm on the top of my head, grinning ear to ear. "Sick! C'mon, we gotta go celebrate a little first."

The redhead put his arm around me and led me back into the crowd, never separating us. He held on tightly for the next twenty minutes or so, saying hello and thanking dozens of fans who congratulated him. We eventually made it back to his parents, who couldn't have been happier. I was immediately brought into a Barr group hug (I wouldn't moved away but Kev still hadn't loosened his grip on my shoulders), which included my face being comfortably held against Kev's jersey, with a couple of strong arms lacing on my back and side. If it wasn't so foreign, it probably would have been very enjoyable, but as I wasn't used to physical affection from anyone but Kevin himself, I focused on him and tried to forget the suffocating grip of whoever else was touching me.

When we parted, Kevin shifted to rest and elbow on my shoulder casually.

"So," he started, feigning nonchalance "I guess the team won finals."

His mother crossed her arms, trying to look cross but failing. "Don't get cocky on me, Kevin."

His father was far less concerned, ad shoved his son a step back by his shoulder. "Won? That was an annihilation! They didn't even stand a chance out there!"

Kevin came back with his fists up, playfully shoving his father back. "They were flat on their asses by second inning. Scott predicted we'd win by a lot, but I didn't think by that much!"

They bantered back and forth, casually shoving and punching each other with over excitement. Mrs Barr silently scooted over to me, rolling her eyes.

"Don't worry, they'll get over it eventually."

"Oh no, I think it's wonderful," I said wistfully. I didn't think I'd ever tire of seeing the relationship Kev had with his parents. It was picture perfect; they seemed like the happiest family on the planet. I didn't see the way Mrs Barr sobered, her eyes clearing with an understanding. I didn't see her sad half smile as she realized I envied Kevin for his parental support. I didn't see her look from her son to me again, her heart both full and breaking.

I did, however, feel her hand on my shoulder. I turned to see her looking at me with those same piercing eyes, lit like fireworks.

"Well," she said, squeezing slightly on my collar, "get used to it. You'll see far too much of it."

To me, it was a humorous gesture.

To her, it was a promise.

(One she didn't keep.)

.


	24. Chapter 24- Broken

**(To understand the story from here on out, it would be best to have read my other story, Hiding Behind Enemy Lines.)**

**.**

**KEVIN'S POINT OF VIEW**

I was able to pull away from my ridiculously excited parents a moment to go find Dee. He should have been with them, but I was afraid he'd gotten himself pulled away by the people around him. Maybe he got uncomfortable with all the strangers.

_Maybe he was having an attack._

Luckily for me, it didn't take long to find him. My first guess that he would run away to the parking lot, as it was in the direction of his house, and it was pretty well lit. My guess turned out to be right. I found him laughing along side Spencer, looking perfectly safe and surprisingly comfortable. I mean, the two barely knew each other! _I think?_

I approached cautiously, calling out to them. Spencer smiled innocently, taking a step back, as if to include me in their circle.

"What's up, y'all?"

Spencer shrugged, his hands jammed in his sweatpant pockets. "I was checkin' if Edd was going to the party afterwards." he said easily, taking another step backwards. "Sounds like fun to me. See you guys there, okay?"

With that, the kid was gone. I hadn't really been planning to invite Dee to the party, as I thought he wouldn't want to go, but since Spenc opened his big mouth, it was only right to do it properly. I turned to Dee, faking embarrassment.

"Oh! I totally forgot. You don't have to go or nuthin', but the kid throwing it mentioned that you should tag along. They'll probably do something stupid later tonight, but for the first while it'll be awesome. You in?"

"Well, it sounds pleasant, but I-"

That was what I was expecting. The kid wasn't one for parties, but now he felt pressured, and I knew it'd be weird to urge him _not _to go, because in all honesty, he'd be a lot more fun to be around then the boys, but I couldn't _tell _him that and I certainly couldn't make him feel more guilty about not going just because I _wanted him there, _but if he actually wanted to go I had to make sure he'd be comfortable and everything… right?

"Hey, man, if you don't wanna go, don't. But I'd be with ya the whole time."

Dee gave me one of those sad smiles that I can never tell if they're actually sad or if it's like a happy sad or something-

"Well, alright then."

"Really?" I couldn't' believe it. That _worked? _

"Really."

I rubbed the top of his head (which I totally knew he hated) and we headed back to the crowd where my parents were waiting. They were as obnoxious as I knew they would be, but Dee didn't seem too worried about it. I'm not sure what he and my Ma were talking about, but it made Dee look loads happier, so I figured it was something good and didn't question.

After they were done with us, we helped them pack up and leave. It didn't take long, as all the food and drinks were eaten. I knew they would be- no one can resist my Ma's food. I haven't met a person who tried it and didn't tell me it was the best thing they'd ever had. It was just eh way it was.

We said goodbye to them and after most of my teammates had left for the party, Dee and I walked the same track we had occupied earlier that day, this time picking up trash along the way.

"You don't have to say it," I said dramatically, sighing. "I know you're impressed."

He shook his head, a smirk settling on his face. "You're ridiculous, Mr. Barr."

"Are you saying you weren't amazed?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you _were _impressed."

"I didn't say that either."

I rounded on him, threatening him with a plastic cup in my head. "That's just a nice way of saying you weren-"

He stared at the ground. "It was a good game."

It was a weird, short answer, but I'd take it. "Well, thank you. It felt like a good game."

The dark haired looked up with a fond look on his face, his face a little red for whatever reason. We kinda stood there for a minute, neither of us saying anything, just…staring at each other. I could tell something was boiling just beneath the surface, and at first I thought he was having an attack, but no, this wasn't panic, it was like…he was wishing for something. It doesn't make a lot of sense, but he looked like he'd just wished on a shooting star. That first second where you actually believe that you're going to get your wish.

It only lasted a second though- just before he gave me that little impish grin he had and tilted his head towards the parking lot. "Come," he inclined, starting to walk away. "It's getting cool and I fear I will drop the trash if I don't throw it out soon."

I wanted to ask him what he was wishing for.

I also wanted to ask him why he was such a freakin' _nerd._

.

The party started out great. Like, really great. We arrived just as people were starting to get into things. The music was blasting, the people were laughing and dancing, and even the guys who get plastered way too often were still sober. For me, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to get loose and have a good time. I doubted Dee thought the same thing, but he hadn't backed out so I was hopeful.

The genius kid tried his best to look calm, but he clung to me like water on a sponge. Not that I minded or anything. He clamped a hand in mine and a hand on my arm, trying not to be jostled by the crowd. It worked pretty well, given that we were able to make it to the other side of the living room without being knocked over.

We sat side by side on one of the recliners (he hadn't let go of me), looking out over the crowd of easy going teenagers (his hand was still in mine). After a minute or so he leaned over (I could feel his hand shaking slightly) and asked me if this was really what parties were like (he was practically laying against my shoulder at this point.)

"What do you mean?" I questioned. I didn't get it- what didn't he understand?

"People just dance and sit around? Is that all it takes to have a successful party?"

I shook my head. "Noooo, no that's not all. So far? Yes. In a little while? It'll get nuts. That's the thing I hate so much, right? Because all they're gonna do is dance and sit around. But when they get drunk or stoned or whatever, it's so much more than that to them. I don't get it."

I was met with a horrified and somewhat suspicious expression. "So why are we _here _then?"

…I didn't have a good answer to that.

"Well," I tried, shrugging, "aren't you curious what a party is like?"

"I suppose, but I'd rather not stick around for the more, uh, illegal aspects."

I laughed. "Me neither. How about we chill around for a few minutes, and as soon as things start to get stupid we'll just sneak out and head back to my place."

His hat bounced as he nodded.

And we were only planning to be there a minute. I had no intention of staying any longer than an hour. But godamm, the _kid, _he was making it very hard to move! Due to the small space on the one seat, he was using part of my lap as a seat, his hand still firmly knotted in mine. Then, of course, while watching the other party goers with curiosity and confusion, he rested his cheek on my shoulder, his head nestling comfortably in the crook of my neck.

I felt like I was gonna die. My stomach was doing all sorts of flips, at first making me wonder if I was gonna puke or something. It wasn't bad or anything…it just surprised me. When he readjusted his hand on my arm my face lit up, a hot blush creeping up my face. What the fuck was _happening _to me? I didn't feel embarrassed- no one seemed to be staring at us or questioning anything. My nerves were working overtime, making it very hard to keep focused when half of me was covered by the very thing making my mind go weird.

If Dee noticed, he didn't say anything. He started to freakin' _relax, _just lying there against me at this ridiculous party. I couldn't believe it.

It was fucking _awesome, and I had no idea why._

It probably couldn't have been better. I had just helped my team win the finals, school was just about out, my parents had been home all week and had been the proudest I'd ever seen them, and now I was practically cuddling with the one person I trusted most.

So of course everything went to absolute Hell.

.

It was probably an hour and a half in when I heard the hush fall over the crowd. It was hard to tell because of how loud the music was, but I noticed the amount of people singing along to the music had become almost none. A couple seconds later, the music stopped, confusing anyone who hadn't noticed the change in atmosphere. The crowd started to move away from whatever it was that caused the disturbance, and I gently pushed Dee off so I could stand. He followed suit, standing a step behind me.

Out of the crowd came none other than Holland, sporting a drunk rage and a BB gun. With him were a couple of his buddies, as well a few of the other team's players, all looking a little plastered and a lot angry. When he spotted me, Holland made his way over, shoving anyone who didn't give him room. I was already gearing up for the first punch when Dee stepped ahead of me.

They approached with matching cynical grins, their eyes darkened with a look Kev came to understand meant a lust for blood. The genius seemed undeterred, however, knowing that looking afraid would only spur them on.

"What business do you have here?" he asked coolly, looking them up and down with disdain.

"What's it to ya?" Ricky shot back, looking more thrilled at Dee's courage than I would have expected. I was outright horrified. The kid had absolutely lost his _mind. _These guys could knock him to the ground faster than he could say 'salutations'.

"You have no reason to be here," Dee snarled, and for a second, I didn't recognize him. The kid was never, ever cold to anyone. It wasn't in his nature. But the soft spoken nerd I knew wasn't there in that moment. He was replaced by someone who looked like he'd had enough. Someone who wasn't scared of anyone. He was serious, he was furious, and he was almost intimidating. As much as someone in a cardigan could be, anyway. The crowd seemed as shocked as I was, most of them never having heard Dee speak aloud _ever._

This only made Holland snicker. He leaned over slightly to look at me, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"You gonna let your little bitch here do all the talking here, Kevvy? Don't tell me I scared'ya that bad, did I?" I stepped up a bit, ready to defend myself. A few other guys pushed to the front of the crowd as well, pissed at having their party crashed.

We stared each other down, Holland looking angrily from Dee to me, and back again. I was sure as Hell not going to throw the first punch, and I really doubted that Dee was agry enough that he'd lash out in violence against anyone. As much I was secretly digging the angry side of him, I knew that the real Dee would only go so far.

I think it was one of ours that started the fight. Next thing I knew, people were yelling, BB guns were being shot, and glass was being shattered. I was grabbed from behind and fought off a douche who pelted me with brass knuckle punches. I took a lamp and smashed it against his temple, watching him crumple to the floor. I turned around and met another maniac, who managed to clip me with a paintball. It hurt like hell, but it was only going to bruise. I shoved him up against a wall, holding his wrists above his head while I nailed him in the groin with my knee. When he was out of commission I turned back to the crowd of people.

_Oh no. Where's Dee?_

.

**DEE'S POINT OF VIEW**

**.**

Ricky Holland's thick hands where around my upper arms, and he steered me outside. I fought him but he was far stronger than me. Were on the main story of the large house, but because it was situated on a cliff, Ricky was able to shove me out onto a balcony with only a railing separating us from a large drop down the rocky Cliffside. He backed me up against the railing, his nose only an inch or so away from mine.

""Well, Edd? How ya' feelin' buddy? Had enough?" he asked, staring at me. "You think you can come here with your sick mind and just pollute the place? Huh? You're disgusting. I know about you, Marion. Oh boy, I know." With that, he pushed me back further, my back ending over the railing to try and distance us. "I know about you. I know you're a pathetic faggot with a broken mind. Yeah, you think no one noticed your little disappearances? Think no one wondered why you'd suddenly run out of class with your fucking boyfriend right behind you? Huh?"

I paled. _This cannot be happening._

"You're broken, Marion. Fucking broken. It's sick to watch you- you arrogant, stupid little bitch. You're asking for it. And I'm gonna give it to you." He leaned in closesly, whispering near my ear like a snake.

"You're better off dead. You think you can hide this for long? You think people won't see how broken you are? Think they won't notice how cozy you are with ol' Kevin in there? You're a dead man walking, Marion. If it ain't me, it's 'onna be somebody. You can't hide, Marion. You can't fucking hide."

He leaned back again, shoving me a few inches further. My heel left the floor, and my weight was quickly tipping me back further.

"Nononononono don'tpleasedon'tohgodohgodohgod-"

My fingertips began to tingle and my neck started to ache.

.

.

**KEVIN'S POINT OF VIEW**

**.**

"Dee!" I screamed, turning frantically in circles. "Dee! Where are you, Dee?!"

A hand came down on my shoulder and I turned, gearing up to attack whoever touched me. I was greeted with a bloody faced Spencer, who looked like he had a broken nose.

"He's not upstairs," he said quickly, looking around the crowd.

"You think he ran out?" I asked desperately.

Spencer shook his head. "I was near the door when it started. I never saw him come by."

Realization hit me like a brick. "Where's Holland?" I asked him, and he turned again, searching for him. I saw Jason being pinned on a table, the kid above him holding a glass bottle. I ran forward, knocking into the bastard. Jason gave me a thankful nod before throwing himself back into the fight, ready to defend his buddies and kick some ass.

"Wait, Barr! The balcony!" Spencer said, and we scrambled in that direction. We shoved a couple of brawlers aside and threw open the door.

I could have fainted right then and there.

.

**DEE'S POINT OF VIEW**

I flailed wildly, screaming out in horror. I couldn't even remember why I was so terrified, but something in my head knew that the threat was very very real. I threw my clenched fists around me in a frantic effort to find purchase. I could barely see and all I could hear was the blood flowing in my ears. My feet found firm ground and I ran forward, running into to something. Fighting to get past it, I let out a panicked yell and swung my elbows about me, wanting nothing but to be left alone. I could feel hands on me, _all over me. Suffocating me. I was dying. I was going to die here, alone with the hands all over me and they won't leave me alone I'm broken they won't go I can't make them go away they're hurting me oh god they're hurting me they're going to kill me Idon't want to dieI don't wantthatplease help me he's right I'mbrokenI'mbroken I can'tmakethemgoawaythey'restucktomeI'msosorryIcan'tmakethemleaveKevinpleasedon'thatemeohgodI'mdyingI'mdyingthey'resuffocating me _

(He was worthless, he was worse than worthless. He couldn't escape it. He couldn't let it go. He couldn't breathe, he _couldn't breathe_, he couldn't-)

(Breathe.)

.

.

.

.

_I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

_._

_._

_._

_._

**KEVIN'S POINT OF VIEW**

**.**

**.**

Ricky Holland's unconscious body lie at one end of the balcony, slumped up against a couple of upturned chairs. His face and hands had gashes on them, and his arm was bent at a weird angle. If nothing else, he probably passed out in pain.

Dee stood on the other end in complete hysterics. He backed away from us, his bloody arms up near his face, his fingers curled up in his hair. His hat lay a few feet away, forgotten. He cried out incoherent sentences, broken fragments of begging tumbling out of his mouth while tears streamed down his face.

When I tried to approach he screamed out, falling on his butt, holding his arms out in terror. Spencer pulled me back a step, not wanting to scare him further.

"Call 911," I whispered to him and he nodded, running back into the house. I held a hand out slowly to him, palm up.

"Dee? Can you hear me?"

"No! No! Don't!" he screamed, scrambling as far as he could. His head way lying against the railing, his body precariously near the edge of the patio.

_Uh oh._

"Dee," I said as calmly as I could, "you need to move away from the cliff, okay. I know you're scared."

"No-I'msorryimsorryimsorry-I can'tthey're right ohgod I can't-" he gasped, sobbing.

I tried not to hyperventilate. "Can't what, Dee?"

"I can'td-d-dothisanymore. Ican'tIcan'tIcan'tICAN'T-" he stuttered between sobs, moving closer so that his leg was dangling off the edge.

_Oh God no. No please no._

"Dee, stop. You have to move away, _now."_

"NO! NO MORE!" he shrieked, his eyes finally meeting mine.

And I fucking saw it.

I saw him break.

There was no more hope left. There was nothing but the fear and the pain that always came with his attacks.

They finally broke him.

I jumped forward to hold him in place, but I wasn't fast enough. I wasn't fast enough. I couldn't have been. I couldn't. I couldn't get to him in time. I wasn't enough. I never was. No matter how much I tried to pretend I could keep him from whatever horrors were stuck inside him, I couldn't be there when it really counted. I couldn't move, I couldn't scream, I couldn't cry. I couldn't.

I couldn't catch him.

I could only watch him fall.

.

.

.

.

.

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_"DEE!"_


	25. Chapter 25 -()

_"Our top story tonight: a party turns dark after a fight breaks out, leaving two people in critical condition and several others in the hospital with minor injuries. We have Lee Jurns on the scene to tell us more. Lee?"_

_"Thanks Diane. What was supposed to be a happy ending for a local high school has turned into a nightmare. After winning the baseball state finals, the Peach Creek team and their friends met up here, at the home of Sean and Laura Bradley, for a celebration. However, near ten o' clock last night, a group of boys from both the neighborhood and the opposing team showed up, many under the influence and almost all carrying non-lethal weapons and a fight broke out. It's not clear who started the fight or why, but police say that dozens fled the scene while dozens more where caught in the fight, leaving nearly fifty students with non life threatening injuries. _

_"However, a boy by the name of Andrew Ward was critically injured after having his head smashed in with a baseball bat. Police are saying if the next couple of surgeries are successful he should live, but with an expected extent of brain damage. The person responsible for Ward's injuries is still under investigation._

_"The other boy in critical condition is a senior of Peach Creek, Eddward Marion. After being attacked by the party-crashers Marion was caught in a fit of hysteria and actually fell off the patio of the house, falling over forty feet in what is now being labeled a suicide attempt. The only eye-witness, a close friend of Marion's, had nothing to say of the incident. _

_"We are wishing all of those injured in the event a swift recovery. Back to you, Diane."_


	26. Chapter 26- Hospital

The stupid cops questioned me forever. Of course they did. Of course they would, the fight got way out of hand. There were three ambulances that night- one to treat minor injuries, one to take the kid with a broken skull... And one to take Dee away.

After they found him, that is.

I don't remember the first little bit. I think my mind blocked it out so I would t have to re-live it over and over again. Dee fell and next the I knew I was being hauled away by two big men in blue. I was struggling against them but stopped, not knowing what good I was doing by getting into more trouble. I spent the next four or five hours with my friends and my enemies, being questioned and interrogated. Stupid things like "who punched who" and "how long between event #1 and event #2". Meanwhile, I was in an absolute fucking fit as to whether or not...yknow, he was gonna make it. No one would tell me where he was, how he was doing, and I got shoved to the ground a couple times for asking. At least, I think I did. The sprinklers went off and my butt was wet.

That's where it gets a little fuzzy. I know I was there for a while, and I know I was talked to by a lot of people but the next thing I can remember I'm actually sitting in the hospital. I had been one of the many people bandaged up and at one point I think I had an ice pack or something- but I was not sitting in the hospital to be treated for _my_ injuries.

Nope, I was in the waiting room.

If anyone knew I was there or why I was there, they didn't say. I sure as Hell didn't wanna talk to anyone, and I knew that eventually I was gonna be able to see him, dead or alive. I was sincerely hoping for the latter. No, no. No, I was fuckin desperate. I was still in shock or something so it didn't come out right, but I was going to lose my mind at the thought of him being...gone. I actually threw up twice, and gagged once when the possibility of him being dead rose up into my mind.

It couldn't happen. He couldn't die. He couldn't just stop being there.

Right?

That would be way too unfair. The world had taken enough from the kid. He'd been through Hell already. It wasn't his fault his mind didn't work like it should have. It wasn't his fault they'd cornered him at his most vulnerable.

I would be angry with Ricky Holland but he didn't know. He was being a real dick and probably scared the daylight out of Dee, but he didn't know that freaking Dee out would do that to him. Besides, Dee defended himself pretty well... Scary well. But he didn't know about Dee's issues. He had no idea what he was doing. He was being a bully and a real jerk, but he had no idea that what he was doing would set Dee off. I think the kid was just looking for a victim. I later heard Holland four with a broken arm, twisted ankle and dozens of stitches. I sincerely hated Holland, but he got what he deserved.

Now, if Dee didn't... Do well, I was gonna go break the news to Holland myself. And then some. Suffice to say, if he ever, _ever, _even breathed in the kid's direction I'd break his fuckin' neck.

But for the time being I was in a fucking hospital waiting to see if my world was ending or not. (No big deal.)

It it was the longest three hours of my life, hands down. I don't even remember what I did, but I'm sure it involved pacing like an idiot, crying randomly and swearing a lot. If anyone saw me I'm sure they assumed I was on meth or something. Has anyone actually approached me at that point, I would have either ignored them or punched them out cold.

Turns out my parents (courtesy of my know it all Ma), had heard about the fight just after the cops showed up but had decided to wait for me to return and explain it myself. They didn't know until later that Dee had been sent to the hospital.

I think they found out just as the doctor came into the waiting room.

"Eddward Marion's family?" He asked softly. I stood, walking over hesitantly.

"'m his best friend," I murmured. "Ain't nobody else comin."

He started to ask about the kid's parents but I just shook my head. His parents weren't around, ever. There weren't coming, and if they were, I was sure they were far enough it would take a while.

"Well," the doc said sadly, smiling a little. "you'll just have to pass on the message then. Come with me."

If I wasn't feeling sick before I certainly was now. I wanted to scream at him to tell me if the kid was still breathing but I was so scared of his answer I couldn't bring myself to say anything. I walked two steps behind him down a couple hallways, up a flight of stairs and around a corner. He stopped me at the door

He sighed. "Well, first of all, he's going to live, but-"

I sank to the floor on my knees. "Oh thank God," I breathed, "Oh thank fucking God."

The doctor took a deep breath, looking stern. "For now."

My blood ran cold. "For...now?"

I got to my feet and the medical dude rounded on me, pulling awkwardly at his stethoscope ends. "Given the circumstances, the police are labeling this as a suicide attempt. After examining Mr. Marion, well, he wasn't taking care of himself. He's horribly malnourished and has actually developed anemia, which can cause serious health issues. His body weight is 80% of what it should be. Not to mention the unresolved issues of his mental health.

"I hate to say it, because it's wrong to make assumptions, but unless your friend gets serious help and quickly, he may very well end in in ICU again. We're having the hospital psychiatrist look over everything and talk to him and soon as Marion wakes up. Which is another thing. Due to the hysteria and the events surrounding it, we don't know how he will react to seeing you. He might be afraid or embarrassed, so I have to demand that he not see you when he first wakes up. After he speaks with Dr. Haven and we know for sure that he can handle interactions with others, you'll be able to visit him. Alright?"

"Can I still see him while he's asleep? He _is _asleep, inn'e?"

"Yes. He should be sedated enough that he won't wake until the morning. Visiting hours end at midnight, but you can stay here in the time being."

With that he opened the door, letting me peek inside. I barely heard him whisper "try not to touch him- he's pretty beat up." Under normal circumstances my brain would have thought what he said made sense, but given that this was Dee and he was lying on a hospital bed like that... I couldn't process it.

It was something like a horror movie, or a nightmare. The first thing I noticed were the bruises. Normally, the kid had the palest skin I'd ever seen, but now he was covered head to toe in purple and green. There were bright stripes of gauze around his hands, arms, and cheek. Muted red splotches sat in his hairline where they couldn't wipe all the blood off. His nose look busted and his eyes were sunk with medicated sleep.

I could barely convince myself to take the four steps forward to the edge of his bed.

_This can't be real._

I had no idea how to respond. Thank the Lord above that he survived? Kick myself for not grabbing him? Kill Holland for freaking him out _that _badly...

That badly.

_Suicide kind of bad._

"What did he say to you?" I whispered. It hit me. Dee could see me. He was panicking, but he could _see _and _respond to me._

"Were you even having an attack?" I begged, my voice cracking. "Was that _real, _Dee?"

He sighed in his sleep.

.

Twenty minutes later, my parents came into the room to find me sitting in a bedside chair, staring at my hands. I didn't even notice they were there until they called my name, pulling me out of my thoughts.

My Ma kneeled in front of me, putting her hands on top of mine. I looked over to the bed, then at her hands, shaking my head.

"I-I didn't, he just-"

"Kevin. Kevin, look at me," she urged, pulling my face towards her. "I know. Listen to me. Eddward will be fine. You'll be fine. Alright? But right now, we need to let him rest." I tensed. "We'll be back as soon as we can. Visiting hours are over, and we have a lot to talk about." My father gave her a hand and my Ma stood, giving me a gentle look. "Take a minute to say goodbye. We'll be in the hall."

After the door shut I slowly turned to the unconscious boy lying beside me. He wouldn't hear me, but there was something I needed to say.

"I'm...I'm so sorry. I wish I could have, I wish you didn't...yknow. You didn't have to be scared about, uhm, all that stuff. I mean, about what I-I would think." I wiped my eyes, hunching over in defeat. "I just-same. That's, that's all." I slowly got up, patting the bed in farewell. Just as I reached for the door I stopped, turning around a little, blinking the tears outta my eyes for millionth time.

"How long have you been alone?" I whispered.

.

.

.

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.


	27. Chapter 27- (Dr)Haven

**Happy Holidays and enjoy the chapter! (and the cameos, if you get them)  
**

**.**

**.**

Max threw herself in the direction she had just come, hearing the ginger boy's voice ringing in her head, telling her that someone had fallen off the back patio. Her only instinct: find them and keep them alive if at all possible. She yelled to two others who had been tending to minor injuries to help her and together they ran out of the house, leaving a dozen co-workers and a hundred kids behind. The two boys ran back to the ambulance to get a stretcher but Max didn't stop to wait for them. She sprinted down the road, heading to where she guessed the person's body would have stopped rolling down the hill.

She jumped over the curb and began searching frantically for any sign of life. Blood, breathing, moaning, body parts, anything.

"Hello?" she called, scanning over every rock and bush. "Hello?!"

Then she spotted it what she was searching for.

A small smearing of dark red liquid.

She headed the way it was painted, hopping down another ten feet of broken rocks before she yelled to the boys to help her. Lying in front of a large boulder was what appeared to be a young male in a serious condition. She couldn't even see his face with all the blood. Upon a quick scan he seemed to have a few broken limbs and possible back injuries. She didn't think he was conscious.

She stuck her fingers to his neck gently and felt for a pulse. It was a couple tense seconds before she could feel the slow thud of his heartbeat.

"He's alive! Unconscious, multiple fractures. I'm afraid to move him. Iggy?"

The more experienced EMS knelt down near the boy and started running his fingers over the boy's limbs, feeling for broken bones.

"Definitely an arm and possibly a wrist… a knee, yeah, aaaaaand oh wow, that gash on his neck. Get me some gauze for that right now."

They quickly gathered him up and placed him on the stretcher, covering his more obvious wounds with bandages. The back of his neck was by far the worst- Max feared he'd bleed out if they didn't hurry.

"You gotta name on him?" Max asked as they rode back, all of them hurrying about to take vitals and keep the patient as stable as possible. Nick looked up at her, and she could tell he was trying to remember.

"The boy on the balcony…said something. I think the patient's name begins with a 'D'."

Max couldn't help the thought that popped into her head. _Hope it doesn't stand for dead._

.

.

"Dr. Haven?"

The doctor looked up from the documents sitting on his desk. "Yes, Josh? How may I help you?"

The other doctor slipped into the office, taking the question as an invitation. He plopped down into the chair across from Haven, sighing and pulling on the ends of his stethoscope- a nervous habit Haven knew Josh picked up after his divorce.

"I have a patient you need to see."

This caught Haven's attention. He pushed his glasses farther up on his nose. "Do you? What happened?"

If he were being honest, Dr. Haven was expecting some sort of abuse case. Domestic violence was more common than he'd originally liked to believe and when Josh came in his office, it was most likely a patient from the ER. All too many times, Josh has fallen into the very chair he sat currently, quietly explaining the injuries and/or nervous behavior he'd observed in a patient. Every blue moon or so, the patient admitted to their victim position. Josh himself was a very professional character- but when he came across heartbreaking problems like that, he could hardly handle it. Haven was accustomed to reassuring the doctor he would do everything in his power to help correct the situation. Given the slump of Josh's shoulders he could tell it wasn't pleasant.

"I got a kid tonight- he's in ICU right now. Attempted suicide. The police told me he threw himself off a porch or something. He fell pretty far and is in critical condition."

Haven raised an eyebrow. Suicides-thankfully-were not common occurrences, especially this time of year.

"How much else do you know about the situation?"

"Let's see. It was at a party, and a fight broke out- a pretty big one. I've seen dozens of other kids with stitches and broken arms. Another kid got his head smashed in, but they sent him to St. Claire's to see Dr. Murphy. The patient I have was being antagonized, and the police think he fought them off, but when into hysterics. He had a couple of disorders- panic attacks and mild OCD. A friend tried to talk him down, but he wouldn't listen. Then I guess he jumped."

Haven nodded, feeling troubled. "What of the friend? Where is he now?"

"Just left, actually," Josh said, rubbing his neck a bit sheepishly. "He was the only one who came to check up on the patient. I didn't know he was connected-I mean, he was pretty beat up but I didn't know he was the witness- until his parents came to pick him up."

The psychiatrist paused a moment, tapping on his desk a couple of times. "Alright. How long do I have until the patient wakes up?"

"He should be up early tomorrow. It's, what? Almost one now. I'd say he'll be up around nine or ten. I have no visitors allowed until you talk to him."

"You let the friend in."

"Yeah, because the patient was asleep. After that, nobody."

"Alright. Well, I'll get ready and be back here at eight thirty. I would like someone to watch over him and alert me when he wakes up. If you think it's necessary, bind his wrists to the bed just in case. I'll bet he's pretty groggy when he gets up, but I really wouldn't want him to freak out when he realizes he's still alive."

"Right. I'll send you his paperwork before I leave. See you tomorrow?"

"See you. And Josh?"

"Yeah?"

"I feel good about this one. Don't waste sleep worrying too much." The doctor nodded and left. Haven hadn't been lying. He _did _feel pretty confident about it, though he couldn't say why. He didn't know the patient and he certainly didn't know what plagued him, but he felt a strange sort of positivism about him.

_Guess we'll find out tomorrow._

_._

Just as Haven put his things on his desk the next morning, a nurse knocked on his door. She poked her head in.

"Dr. Haven your patient is starting to wake up. He is in number room number 217. Maria's been watching over him and doing his checks. She just asked for you."

Haven quickly shrugged out of his suit coat and picked up his file and clipboard, sticking a pen in his pocket. "Perfect, thank you. Tell Maria I'll be right over."

The doctor adjusted his glasses as he hurried down the hall. While he trusted the nurses and aides here, he really didn't want anyone to say anything to the patient before he did. He wanted to see every reaction the boy made, as it would help him immensely. His job was to decide if the boy was able to take care of himself or not. If not, he would be referring the young man to a mental institution for however long it took him to recover. If Haven felt he could do him good he'd even ask to be assigned to the boy while there. Haven worked at the hospital and the institution for that very perk.

He rounded the corner and swiped his employee card at the door, finding a very confused young man staring at him. Next to his bed was Maria, who was furiously scribbling something down on a packet of paper.

"Maria, a moment," Haven requested quietly. The nurse stood, following him out the door.

"Have you said anything to him?" he asked.

"Not a word, Doctor. I know you don't appreciate it. He isn't really 'awake' enough for that, anyhow. He's all yours."

The doctor thanked her and re-entered the room. He'd read about the injuries, of course, but seeing them with his own eyes always made him ache a little. Suicide attempts were a very tricky thing to deal with. Everyone reacted differently. Some patients were relieved, as the real prospect of death had scared them enough that they had changed their minds. Many were confused. He'd had a few patients who were very angry that it didn't work, and cursed those that helped keep them alive (Haven included). The worst ones, however, were the ones who faked a swift recovery so they could try again. Repeat offenders were not only hard to see, but it meant a personal failure on Haven's part. It meant he hadn't down his job properly.

This patient, Mr. Marion, looked confused and defeated. Haven expected this, of course. Having felt what one thought were their final moments, waking up in a bright room with a stranger and feeling a fuzzy sort of all over pain was probably not the outcome most attempters expected to experience. The boy's bright blue eyes looked around the room slowly but precisely, as if he meant to memorize it. It took a moment, but he did eventually turn his eyes to Haven, who had moved to the seat Maria had occupied not long ago.

"Hello, Eddward," the doctor tried, not knowing if Mr. Marion was yet conscious enough to hear him. But the boy squinted, as if trying to decide whether or not he knew the doctor, and Haven took it as an initiative to keep talking.

"Things must be very confusing to you right now. I want to assure you that you are in a safe place. We are in Peach Creek Hospital, in the ICU to be exact."

The doctor paused, watching to gauge how the young boy reacted to that news. It was usually about this time that the patient finally understood that their attempt had failed and that they were still alive. It must have dawned on the dark haired boy at that time as well, because his eyes showed his horror, and his shoulders tensed slightly, despite how painful it was. His bruised and broken fingers twitched as he tried to clutch the blanket around him. His breathing quickened, tears filling his eyes. The boy didn't seem angry, however, more like afraid and desperate. For what, the doctor didn't know.

It was hard to watch.

"Please don't afraid, Eddward. I'm here to try and help you. The police believe that what happened to you was no accident. My name is Dr. Carlos Haven and I'm a psychiatrist. I'm here to help understand what happened and decide what needs to happen to help you recover."

To this the young boy whimpered, a small sob escaping him. Like in many of these situations, Haven resisted the urge to show the patient comfort. He couldn't show much physical effection, for legal reasons. That, and he could very well hurt the patient both physically and emotionally. He didn't know what scars the boy carried. So he was forced to watch the boy cry, his body shaking with grief and pain. Haven had seen the efforts the medical team had put into relieving the boys physical aches, but he knew that sometimes that wasn't enough. It was very likely the young man was in immeasurable pain.

"It's alright to be upset, Eddward. You've had it very hard, haven't you?" That was a bit of a bluff. He _had _been given a record of the psychiatric treatment Eddward had received, but it didn't reflect any suicidal tendencies or severe panic attacks, just a side note about 'generalized anxiety'. Which meant Mr. Marion hadn't shared, or the psychiatrist was subpar. Either way, he knew that for someone to attempt what he had, that at least _he _believed his situation was dire. Empathizing with that was the first step.

It worked, and the boy cried harder. His chest moved sporadically up and down as the he tried to quiet his sobs. Haven took that as a hint that the boy was embarrassed or afraid to show his emotions, even when he had no reason to impress the doctor. The older man righted his glasses and leaned forward and placed a hand on the top of the boy's head, knowing that there were no serious injuries there.

"Whatever you're facing, I promise that you'll be okay. I promise that we can work through this," he said quietly. The raven haired boy shut his eyes, shaking his head slightly. Of course, in his position, it would be very hard to believe that relief was possible. Haven knew that.

"I'm not asking you to believe me, Mr. Marion. I understand if you don't. Right now, all I want you to do is concentrate on getting better. I will be here, available to you at any moment of any day. While we will be working on your recovery together, I ask that you call for me anytime you need or want me. You may not need to, however. Due to the extent of your injuries you will be in the hospital for a little while, and during such time I'd like to do whatever I can for you. Do you understand?"

The boy looked away, keeping his eyes on the other wall. His hands were ghost white as he clung to the sheets on either side of him. After a few moments he took a deep breath and nodded. Haven wanted to continue talking with the boy but he could tell the young man had not finished grieving. He guessed it would be a few hours before it was appropriate to start a conversation with him about what happened. For now, Eddward needed to cry and be upset. If Haven was lucky, it would help clear his mind from whatever horror had caused all of this to happen.

The older man sat there with Eddward for the next twenty minutes or so, neither of them saying a word. The boy continued to let out silent tears while Haven jotted down a few notes and sat quietly. In some cases, the victim would be so full of emotion they would let things slip out, if only to assure Haven he wasn't needed. But young Mr. Marion was determined to be silent, and the doctor took it as a sign that he just wasn't ready. He stood, watching the boy flinch in response to the noise (he made a mental note- 'gets lost in his own thoughts and instinctively sees others as a threat').

"I will be back to see you tonight. If you'd like to talk then, we certainly can. Please let the nurses know if you'd like to see me before then. I wish all the best to you."

.

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The first time Dr. Haven heard Eddward speak was almost a week after he'd been admitted. During their time together so far, the doctor's primary focus was to help the boy accept what had happened and to help him find some hope for recovery. He learned the young man was very bright and listened carefully, though he never responded and he rarely looked Haven in the eye. The older man could tell from the boy's mannerisms that he was not aggressive, schizophrenic or manic depressive. Instead, the doctor found it likely that the boy had been bullied in the past for being different and possibly had a semi-abusive relationship with his parents (something he learned more form their lack of presence than from Eddward himself). After a week of studying the young man Eddward surprised him when after Haven handed him a paper to sign, the boy had spoken quietly, as if afraid of being overheard.

"It has two 'D's."

"I'm sorry, what does?"

"My name."

Haven leaned over to scan the paper. He had in fact written the boy's name incorrectly, far more used to seeing the name written with only one 'D'.

"Why yes, look at that. I apologize- I didn't notice I did that until just now."

Eddward said nothing, handing the paper back to Haven carefully. Not wanting to lose the confidence the boy had just shown, the doctor tried again.

"Do people often spell your name wrong?"

The boy nodded. It wasn't words, but it was better than nothing.

"That's got to be frustrating."

The young man shook his head, looking forlorn.

"No? Why not?"

There was a moment before Eddward spoke again, a mental struggle going on in his brain before he must have decided he could explain.

"That's where they got my nickname."

"Who is they?"

"My friends."

"What's your nickname?"

At this, the young man shook his head, blinking the tears away quickly. Haven guessed it was more about his friends than the nickname itself. Eddward had mentioned 'friends', as in, more than one. However, only one person had attempted to see the young man while he had been staying there. A young Kevin Barr, the only person to witness Marion's attempt had come by almost daily to see the other boy, only to be turned away every time. Partially due to the fact that Haven had yet to pinpoint the cause of Eddward's suicidal tendencies, and partially because the victim himself hadn't asked to see anyone.

Marion was in a bad place, and Dr. Haven knew that it would take consider time and effort to help him come around. There was no telling what dark, horrible things had invaded his mind and it seemed the boy had never been given a chance not to let them out. Haven had a lot of work to do, and given the circumstances, not a lot of time to do it.

But he was determined to put the quiet, gentle soul of Eddward Marion back together.


	28. Chapter 28- Ponytail

In the case of suicide attempts, only certain members of staff are allowed to care for the patient. They were people trained to treat both physical and emotional crises. They had to know how to pick up on tiny hints that someone was having what they called a "long night", or was more likely to harm themselves or others. Even the small things like hiding wrappers in their room or being happier than usual could be signs. They all knew basic personal defense, as well as coping methods for talking someone down and out of hurting themselves.

In the case of Eddward Marion, however, the employee team members were more confused by him than wary of his actions. He spoke very little to only a few people, which didn't happen often but it wasn't entirely unheard of. He had a very polite, curious personality which was rare for patients in his position and the psychiatrist seeing over him told the staff to encourage it.

But what really made the young man stand out where his issues. Sure, he had almost daily panic attacks where he curled up into himself and cried for about ten minutes, but if the staff left him alone for an hour, he'd be fine. Other than that...he never did anything spectacular. The crisis team had grown accustomed to angry, desperate people in their care. Why wouldn't they be? But no, Eddward Marion was always _always _on his best behavior. They could tell he was exhausted, in a lot of pain, and his psychological damage was holding him back, but he never seemed to lash out at anyone.

Of course, that was only their perspective.

In truth, Eddward had talked _himself _down many, many times. He often told himself he would only have to wait until after a meal. Then, after throwing up or feeling miserable after having attempted to eat, he would tell himself to wait until the next day, when he felt better. This continued for the first couple of weeks, with him barely speaking a word to anyone. He didn't fully trust anyone, though they did seem to have his best interest at heart. Dr. Haven especially had been very kind to him, though Eddward knew it was only because it was his job to.

It occurred to Eddward that had he found himself in this situation a year ago, it wouldn't have bothered him. He wouldn't have cared much if the staff were friendly or not. It wouldn't have mattered to him if the Doctor was kind. Because a year ago, he had forgotten what having friends was really like. He wouldn't have sought out friend because at the time he really didn't believe he needed any.

Now, thanks to...him, he was almost desperate for someone to talk to. He really didn't want to speak with all these strangers. They were trained to be kind and welcoming. It didn't mean they were nice people. He didn't want to talk to Dr. Haven, though he knew he probably should. And he most certainly didn't want to talk to Kevin...no, how could he face him? How was he supposed to look him in the eye?

He knew Kevin would find him pathetic. Eddward certainly saw himself that way. The one friend, the one confidant, the one person Eddward truly cared about who had so desperately tried to help him. And Eddward...Eddward had let him down. He let whatever it was that haunted his mind get the better of him. He had given up, and given in. Surely Kevin had seen it. Even with the best of intentions, Eddward had researched that those who attempted suicide, unless they recovered quickly, were often resented by those closest to them. They were seen as a burden.

He didn't know exactly what Kevin thought, exactly.

But he didn't want to find out.

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"Your parents came by again today," Haven said, watching as Eddward shifted uncomfortably.

"They brought by a letter. Would you like to read it?"

Eddward nodded, and Dr. Haven handed him the small yellow envelope. The young boy quietly opened it, and read the contents therein. It was a simple 'thinking of you' card and must have not had much written in it, as it only took Marion a couple of seconds to read though its entirety. He closed it, set it back in his lap and stared at the floor.

"That didn't take long," the doctor commented. His patient shrugged.

"They didn't write very much," he replied.

"They haven't come by in person to see you," Haven recited, noticing the way the boys eyes shut as if to block out what he was saying.

"No, they haven't."

"Do you wish they would?"

The young man's lip quivered a bit, which Haven had learned to mean that he was emotional and torn between what he wanted to say and what he thought he should say. Eddward was proper, on all accounts. The dark haired patient was not one to act impulsively or rashly, unless his emotions got the better of him (which he tried very hard not to let happen). In many ways, it was hard to get someone to open up when they were so determined to be professional all the time. Haven found it equally amusing, frustrating and absolutely fascinating. He could only imagine what kind of childhood would train him to act that way while _in the hospital. _

As if to prove that very thought Eddward sat a bit straighter, his eyes focused forward. "I appreciate what they've done." It wasn't much of answer, and they both knew it. It wasn't just Haven who thought the boy's lack of parents was strange. No one dared say anything to him, of course, but the older employees on his care team had become quite protective of him because of it. The doctor had heard the quiet whispers exchanged on breaks, hushed voices asking if the young man had done what he did to gain the attention he so desperately lacked.

Haven didn't agree. Sure, his neglectful parents may have made it hard for Eddward to connect to others, and whatever pressures they had put on him had caused him to believe that any mistake he made was a failure, but in the instance of his attempt, the doctor truly doubted that hi parents were on his mind. Of course, if in fact their parenting style really did make it hard for Eddward to make mistakes and grow from them, then they were partially to blame for what happened. The dark haired boy had attacked a peer while in an attack and while it was put down as self defense, Haven knew Eddward didn't see it that way. He saw it as an uncalled act of aggression on his part. It was one of the things the boy wouldn't talk about. He gave the facts to the police when they asked, his head bowed and tears streaming down his face (though, realistically, the police officers were very patient and kind with him. They did not blame him for what he did- he was his biggest critic). The doctor guessed that this instance was one that the boy wouldn't soon forgive himself for.

He also refused to see the other boy, Mr. Barr. When Haven asked him about it, Eddward had simply shook his head, looking more pained than afraid.

"Are you sure?" the doctor had asked, knowing from the investigation that the two had been very close. "I think seeing a friend would help. Mr. Barr is very worried about you. He has come by every day. You can't avoid him forever, I don't think."

At this, the boy let out a sad laugh, remembering that he felt that way at the beginning of their friendship. He'd let Kevin in then, but would he now?

"Not today," the boy sighed.

.

It only took about three weeks for Eddward to become the staffs' favorite resident. He didn't cause any trouble, didn't refuse meals even though he often couldn't hold it down, and he took his medication on time. When a young nurse with a gentle fondness for the boy suggested he try walking he had agreed. She then spent the next hour with an arm around her shoulders as he slowly limped down the hallway. Because he injuries on both his wrists and ankle, he couldn't use crutches. They probably got about fifty feet, and by the end his face was twisted in pain, but the nurse was very proud he had tried at all.

Another nurse, a middle aged man with a soft voice (as the boy responded best to quiet, calm people) gained his trust enough that during an attack, the boy reached out for him. The man held his hand in both of his, not saying a word. When the young man had calmed down, the man got up without a word, finished what he was doing and left.

Lastly, a new tech got farther than almost anyone had. After walking in to find him trying to brush his hair, she realized how painful the exercise must have been. She gently took the brush from him, despite his embarrassed protests. She put him in a chair and stood behind him, gently brushing all the missed tangles out. It had taken upwards of half an hour to get his hair smooth again. She put his hair in a small pony tail, using a hair band she had been keeping on her wrist. It was so relieving for the young man to have his hair off his neck that he allowed her to do it everyday after. While the young woman worked, she would tell him silly stories about the staff. He didn't often laugh, but he would smile nervously and she thought it was good enough.

Dr. Haven had gained the boy's trust, but in a different way. They had a sort of contract between them. An unspoken one. Eddward would speak when he was comfortable, but he wouldn't hold back from things he felt he needed to say. In return, Haven would give him his personal space. He wouldn't engage him in conversation outside their appointments and he never touched him. It seemed Mr. Marion was still not used to speaking his thoughts allowed, and it make him very conscious. By staying at a respectful distance, it helped Eddward cope.

The hospital had grown quite fond of the dark haired boy- but Eddward was far from healed. The kindness he was showed helped mend the aches, but it couldn't fix him. Not this time.

.

Eddward often thought about the psychiatrist's suggestion to see Kevin. He hated to admit it, but there was wisdom in the doctor's words. Eddward was about to lose his mind if he didn't have a familiar face soon, and he thought it rude of him to ignore him everyday. A month after the incident, Eddward was getting better by the day. Almost all the bruises were gone, the stitches were starting to fall out, and he was getting better at walking with a boot. He was sick of the hospital room he claimed, even with the beautiful view it gave him. It was looking like he'd have to do time in a rehab center- partially because he was only inches from the edge and partially because if he didn't, there was a chance Ricky Holland's parents could take him to court for his injuries. Haven assured the young man that if they did they would have nothing to go on, as Holland had done much more the Eddward than Eddward had done to him, but the process would be traumatizing and unnecessary. Instead, Mr. Marion would be transferring to a lovely institution a couple towns over where he would stay for up to six months. He would be under the careful eye of Dr. Haven himself, as well as a nurse the doctor assured Eddward he would be fond of. It wasn't ideal and truth be told Eddward was terrified, but he figured he had no choice.

Which is why he was going to see Kevin. To say goodbye.

There was no telling how long he would be gone, or if the rehabilitation would even help. If it didn't, Eddward had decided that he could no longer burden the ginger with his problems. It wasn't fair, no matter how determined the young man seemed. He had a life to live, and the dark haired boy was determined to let him live it with or without him. He was relieved to know that by letting the Barr boy go, it might help both of them move on from what had happened. Perhaps one day, Kevin would only remember him as a strange boy he had once known. Not the psychological mess of a being that had taken up much of his time and strength.

Eddward cursed himself, knowing that mostly, he just didn't want to be seen as broken anymore. He couldn't stand it. He was broken, of course. Eddward Marion was a shell of a boy with little hope for himself and others. And as much as it hurt to let Kevin go, it would be worth it knowing no one he cared about would see him that way anymore. Maybe if Eddward recovered, they could be friends once more. Maybe he could convince the athlete he wasn't as useless, as disturbed, as _broken _as he had allowed himself to become.

Maybe.

He told Dr. Haven that he would see the other boy at the end of the week. Then he promptly burst into tears.


	29. Anxiety

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**_Anxiety_**

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If there were appropriate words for what has transpired I would have said them by now, but as I watch him walk into the small vistor's room I know that there is nothing left I can give him, and there are no phrases in which I can relate how much I am sorry and how much I knew this was going to happen. Of course it was. Weren't we doomed for something as simple and as dramatic as the lines on his sleeves? If I tried to make him understand I know he wouldn't be able to swallow the lie I served him.

Fear is a funny thing, and desperation is downright hilarious. Both show in his face and it almost makes me want to laugh to think I caused him so much worry only to make it so much worse. If there was any reason for me to do what I did, it was because I could bring him nothing else.

He doesn't know he carries a light or that I want to sunbath in his colorful wake but he does notice my hands. They shake a little every now and then like souvenirs from a place I never got the map to and never wanted to visit in the first place.

There are no coverups for what has happened and I stand there feeling exposed when my sleeves reach past my fingertips and the sound of my breathing is so ragged it covers whatever thoughts that might leak out my ears and whisper how sorry I am to see his brilliant smile go.

I want to ask him why he's surrounded by so much insanity though the crazy bug already bit me -and boy did I scratch it- so I know it's a question I know how to answer. The white of the walls only furthers to bleach whatever witty comment I could have gotten from my broken mind and I simply say "I remember you"

It's not like the depression medication gave me more than potential death- and amnesia isn't on my medical records- but he knows that when I speak those words I am referring to him in the sense that I remember his caring nature, his willing hands and a promise I never wanted to keep.

He knows me well enough to know I can count and maybe it bothers him that I didn't even bother to let him know that I didn't know how many white nails I put in my own coffin when the bottle said "take two daily".

I promised him the world in my own eyes- which is to say I promised I would keep my heart beating long enough to see it for myself.

His empty pupils are swimming though neither of us will shed a tear in the blaring inhospitality of the hospital corridor. It seems only fitting that I got a room with a view of the city I grew up in while I am being fixed in a home so much more confining than my empty place.

Empty...like his eyes, like the other side of the phone call to my parents that just kept ringing, like my stomach because they pumped everything out- the secrets I tried so hard to keep in my blood and off my clothes but while the sun shone so brightly off his face, it made the blades sparkle like stars and I saw my favorite constellation in them.

It's funny, really. His empty eyes look so sad and his face is eclipsing into something like anger or betrayal so much that while I am the one who tried to kill myself he is the one who truly needs the comfort. So I wrap what parts of him I can best reach from my barefoot position and hold him quietly, wanting to apologize for something I do not yet regret though the pain in his face hurts more than the burial ever would.

He lets out a broken sigh, caught between hating me and loving my warmth, breathing in skin that only quick medical procedure could let him experience again.

"Please don't leave me" is all he can say, and though I feel like mending his broken question with an answer that will satisfy him I know I cannot.

"I already have."

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**This is the original poem that I wrote that inspired the story 'Anxiety'. **


	30. Chapter 30- Lookalike

****You're not going to get this if you haven't read HBEL****

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**10 YEARS LATER**

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**DEE'S POINT OF VIEW**

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"Yo, Marion!"

I turned, facing my co-worker with a patient smile. "Yes, Jeanine?"

She handed me a file, shrugging. "You got it. You're teaching both next semester. I can't believe the principal allowed it, but you've got the position and he's already ordered your books. You did it, Marion."

With the news, I nearly dropped my things in excitement. "Oh, that's wonderful! I never thought I would be able to convince them! Oh, thank you!" I quickly pulled the file from her outstretched hand and opened it, seeing a pile of forms for the new class. Equipment, books, lab dates, computer room dates, everything a man could dream of. It was absolutely beautiful.

"Don't go crying on me," Jeanine added in soft, sarcastic tone. The blonde woman put up a tough, casual facade, but I knew that she was more or less of a pushover, even if only around me. I grinned at her, closing the file and tucking it into the stack of papers I was carrying. At my child-like enthusiasm she smiled and rolled her eyes fondly. I had pining for this position since I had started working at the school over two years ago. I had pushed for the two classes every semester, to no avail. Last year, Jeanine had started pushing for it as well, having made friends with me and seeing just how determined I was. She worked for the school board and had some friends in the system, and had played a key role in convincing my principal. Without her help, it never would have happened and we both knew it. I would be eternally grateful for her support. Had she not convinced the superintendent that having children learn botany and anatomy would seriously increase their awareness of the world around them, I would be stuck as a basic eleventh grade science teacher for the rest of my career.

"I can't wait," I told her, imagining all the amazing things the natural world had to offer as a curriculum. I could open the minds of those who truly wanted to learn something valuable, and to me, that was the most rewarding thing about teaching. If I could enlighten, inspire or change someone's mind for the better, than I would do anything in my power to do just that. I had already seen some student's eyes light up in the classroom, and it was motivating. I felt absolutely determined to make the new classes something to remember.

"Don't get too excited. You're still a high school teacher," Jeanine said playfully, laughing. "Anyway, I gotta go. I just came to find you to tell you about the position. I'm sure you'll want to re-learn everything about the subjects for the millionth time overnight. I'll see you later."

"Oh yes, of course," I said, straightening and lightly chastising myself for zoning out on her. "I will see you at the board meeting on Friday. Thank you so much for your assistance."

"No prob, man. Bye."

"Goodbye my friend."

.

That night, after having an early dinner (excitement really works up an appetite!), I decided that it would be best if I went for a walk. The news had made me quite jittery, and I knew that some exercise would do wonders. After leaving Peach Creek and going to school, I had come back and settled in a small house on the base of the mountain, a few miles away from the center of town. There were houses, but almost every house had a view and a yard, something I truly appreciated. On warm nights I liked to walk through the oak to a stream, one that I could follow all the way to the city center if I chose. Today, however, I didn't plan to leave the comfort of the rural mountain side.

On my way out the door I donned my hat, regardless of the temperature. I didn't wear it very often anymore. My job didn't allow me to wear hats, and it was getting worn. That, and I had become quite comfortable with wearing a small ponytail, effectively keeping my hair out of my face save for the bangs I could never bring myself to grow out. It was a strange look, but other teachers assured me that it was a fashionable hair style.

Today, though, something told me to wear it.

I quickly found my way to the babbling stream behind my home, feeling almost tempted to dip my fingers in the crystal clear water that I knew from experience would be quite cold. The lure was thwarted by my knowledge of just how dirty the water could be. I had long gotten over my overwhelming fear of germs, and had kept my OCD almost completely at bay, but I never let go of my wariness. It wasn't a part of my mental health- it was my personality. It took me a long time to understand the difference. There were quirks that were part of my mental illnesses, and there were things about me that were _just me. _

Thanks to the modern mental health care available, I had been given the correct amount of therapy and medication to give me the best life possible. After having a very difficult time as a teenager, things had slowly but dramatically changed at the hand of a kind doctor named Carlos Haven and his lovely assistant Leelah Reid. I had spent over ten months in the care of those two, eventually learning how to forgive, forget and cope with myself and the world around me.

It hadn't been easy. Lord, it wasn't easy. I had been so determined that I was a lost case that it took months for me just to accept that Haven and Leelah were trying to help me. Haven had been patient but distant, something I thought I had wanted. At the time, with my shame and my self hate, I told myself I did not want the comfort and I didn't deserve a friend. Leelah had changed that. Leelah was the type of person no one could ignore. She was a tall, enthusiastic woman with a heart of absolute gold. She had big blonde hair, skin as black as night, and teeth white like snow. While Carlos was a soft spoken gentleman, Leelah was a walking ray of sunshine. She was ever positive and loving, something I had only experienced one other time.

I only ever saw her upset one time. We had been talking (as we often did late into the night), and she had told me something she told almost no one. The word 'transgender' had been one I knew but never used, as if saying it was taboo. The world had become a bit more tolerable of the phrase, but it hadn't become much less violent. Such tragedy had struck my poor friend. She had been severely beaten by those she had trusted. So she packed her things and left, moving to the quiet neighborhood near the hospital. The only people who knew were Haven, Leelah's husband and myself. It was her confidence in me and her trust that made me open up to the passionate woman. She became almost my other half as I recovered, being both my primary care taker and Haven's right hand assistant.

After I finally let go of my shame, my pride and my secrets, I was able to heal. At that point it was bittersweet, knowing that I would have to say goodbye to the dear people I had learned to love. Upon scheduling my release date, Leelah immediately offered me her home while I went to school. I had been hesitant, not wanting her to feel obligated just because I had expressed an interest in the college nearby but she insisted, leading me to move from the hospital I had known as home to Leelah and her husband, Gordon. The man of the house was a portly, red faced, ever smiling man with a crystal laugh and a balding head. Mr. Reid was like Leelah in that he was cheerful, but he was also very smart, as he had a master's degree in information technology where he had made a career. Gordon welcomed me to the home with open arms, giving me a comfortable room and a place at their table.

I stayed with them for six years. We became a sort of family, one I had never had before. They were a bit older than me, but they were equal parts parental as they were friendly. While I was at school or work they went to their respective places of occupation, but no matter the day or the time of night, we always sat together for dinner and company at the end of the day. The Reids were movie lovers, and we visited the theater often. They taught me card games, recipes, and self love.

After graduating with my bachelors I went on to become a student teacher, and then, a teacher at the local junior high. After a year of residency there, the Reids announced they would be adopting a young girl from a friend they had known for years. I, knowing that a child would need the spare room, decided that it was time to move on. I helped them set up the nursery and left, thanking them both for everything and promising that I would visit often.

I then moved back to Peach Creek city.

I sighed, remembering how strange it had been to return after being gone for what felt like a lifetime. It wasn't the same, and neither was I. I hoped that we had both changed for the better. Finding a home was fairly simple, as many of the older people who owned the small houses had passed away, and the younger generation had built bigger, more expensive homes downtown. I bought the place for half of what it was probably worth and found myself a position at the junior high, only working there a couple of years before being transferred to the high school. _My _old high school. The deja vu made me a little uncomfortable at first, but there was enough renovation that I soon grew used to it.

It was a good job, and I enjoyed it. Now, of course, I would even have the opportunity to teach what I really enjoyed. I promised myself that as soon as I got home I would phone the Reids and Dr. Haven to tell them the good news. For now, however, I was finding the clean air both refreshing and calming. My footsteps were light, but noisy as I stepped on a lot of branches, leaves, and pine needles as I continued to trace the outline of the stream.

It was perhaps twenty minutes into my walk that I heard a faint sound. It was human, but I couldn't tell who it was. I kept walking, trying to silence my footsteps as to not startle whoever it was. The sound became more clear, and I could tell that someone- a woman or a child by the timbre of the voice- was not far away, weeping. I wasn't sure if I should approach them or not, but my worries overtook me and I continued towards them. I rounded the corner and saw a small child crouched by the stream, his arms wrapped tightly around his knees. Black, loose curly hair sprouted from his little head at all angles, reminding me of...well, myself as a child.

He must have heard me, for he turned to me and scowled, his dark blue eyes red rimmed. It was silent between us for a moment, as I took him and he took me in.

"Hello there," I said, trying to speak only loud enough that he could hear me. I racked my brain for something to say without frightening him. "May I join you?"

At this his face relaxed slightly. He sniffled, looking back towards the stream. "You may," he replied, his voice cracking. A little hand came up to push the curly hair out of his eyes. Cautiously, I stepped forward and crouched beside him, reaching into my pocket for a small pack of tissues. I handed him one and he used it to wipe his nose and eyes, not saying anything.

"Are you alright?" I asked, giving him a moment to respond. He shook his head, his black curls swaying with the movement. The boy lifted a hand, pushing the hair back out of his face.

"Are you hurt?" Again, he shook his head, and again, he pushed his hair out of his eyes.

"Would you like to talk about it?" Once more, the hair fell into his dark eyes and he pushed it away.

It gave me an idea.

I reached up and pulled my beloved beanie off my head, my movement drawing the attention of the young boy next to me. He seemed confused and surprised, noticing just how similar we appeared. I then handed him the soft cloth, smiling.

"Here. I use it to keep my hair out of the way, but it seems you are in more need of it than I."

Shocked, he looked from me to the hat and back several times before sheepishly reaching out and taking the article of clothing and situating it atop his head. He tucked all the loose strands in and then looked back at me. The hat was far too big for him and covered most of his forehead, but it suited him.

"There you go. Is that better?"

"Yes, it is better," he replied, his voice a bit hoarse from crying. He had recovered somewhat, but he still seemed somber and upset.

I didn't know what to say after that. The child couldn't have been more than seven or eight. But it seemed that he had the weight of the entire world on his shoulders, and it made me very sorry for him. But what could I do? He didn't want to indulge me on what had happened, and I knew better than to pry. He could be lost, or hurt or over dramatic and I wouldn't be able to tell the difference.

"I could just fall in."

"What do you mean? Fall into what?"

"The water. I don't know how to swim. What then?"

While the question was strange, the young boy looked at me genuinely, a curious scowl on his pale face. I was sure he knew the answer but for some reason he wanted me to tell him, though I knew not why. I was caught between returning the question back at him and telling the truth, as I knew this child was too clever to believe a lie and I was hardly capable of giving him one. I scooted a bit closer to the edge of the body of water and stared into it, as if it could help me give the boy whatever it was that he was looking for. I glanced over at him, forcing him to keep eye contact with me.

"You will learn," I said, sighing. "Or you will drown."


	31. Chapter 31- Deja Vu

**Thanks Alex. **

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**TEN MORE YEARS LATER**

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I entered the classroom easily, adjusting the glasses on my nose. I glanced over the young students seated throughout the room, almost smiling at the very empty first row. It wouldn't be empty for long- I was one of the many professors who preferred a seating chart to help me memorize the pupils' names. For the first couple of periods I allowed them to choose where they sat simply so I could observe any potential threats to the quiet of the class and make sure that those who caused disturbances did not sit together in my seating chart.

There was a great diversity of students, including a few known troublemakers, a few athletes, and, I noted happily, a few attentive students. My movements took me to the front of the class where I dropped my papers, cleared my throat, and clasped my hands behind my back excitedly.

"Well! Let's get started, shall we? Welcome to Basic Anatomy. My name is Doctor Marion, but many of my students just refer to me as the 'Doc', and you are welcome to do so if it helps you remember. I have been a professor in this school for about twelve years, and I promise you that if you sincerely put in the effort, we will have a very successful year together. But I'll get more into that when we review the syllabus. First however, we shall go over the roll call so that I may attribute your names to your faces. I apologize, as I have not had the time to look over the roll before hand and I may mispronounce your names."

"Kyle Abbott?"

"Here!"

"Sarah Adams?"

"'M here!"

"Shila Avon?"

"Right here."

"Kevin Ba-"

I froze. I couldn't breathe. It was there, on the paper, staring at me. There was nowhere else to look. Something like dread filled my chest so quickly I didn't have time to understand what was going on.

_This cannot be real._

**BARR, KEVIN THOMAS**

"I-I-"

"It's Barr. Kevin Barr."

Slowly, my eyes moved up to where the voice was, my mouth hanging open slightly. I gasped, taking in the body of the figure whose hand was in the air. There, on the second row, was a young, thin boy with...with...

Red hair, freckles, and a skewed red hat. Bright green eyes stared at me, their brilliance hidden by thick glasses but still so familiar to me. It was him.

"Kev," I breathed, trying very hard not to hyperventilate. "Kevin Barr?"

At this his hand fell a bit, and he looked very confused. "Uh-huh, that's me..."

It took me a moment to recover. I shut my mouth, closed my eyes and shook my head. "I apologize. Sorry. Yes, of course. Uh, let's see here, Cami? Cami Brinkley?"

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There was no avoiding it. He was clearly, undeniably, the son of him who I had left all those years ago, in the flesh. He had the same name, same freckles, even the same lopsided smirk when he felt cocky. Which was, surprisingly, not that often. This young man, it seemed, was different in personality to his elder. Where my friend was brash and explosive, this boy was quiet and contemplative. Where Kev was social and uninterested in school, the young man I witnessed was dedicated to his work and didn't speak to those around him. In fact, he seemed determined to avoid some of the other students in school, and once or twice I saw him hurry down the hall with a panicked expression and bowed head. He wore nothing but long sleeves, dark jeans and his beloved red cap from the only club he attended. His hands were small and often littered with cuts and marks, and his face was often distressed when he moved.

I feared the worst for the young man.

I knew he had not been abused by his family- no, the Kev I knew would never _never _lay a hand on anyone who did not deserve it. Nor did I suspect the boy did it to himself. He was more afraid than ashamed. For him, it seemed, he was being abused from someone he truly didn't think he could escape from, and a I watched him grow more and more worn out as he went on to his eleventh and twelfth year. It was at that time that I learned the truth of his quiet nature, and persistent injuries.

It was a quiet morning, and school was scheduled to start in twenty minutes. I had done no tutoring that morning and had instead decided to tend to the cacti I housed in the walls of my classroom. I set a particular favorite on my desk and observed it, jotting a few notes to help me decide if the humidity in the room was right for the plant or not. As I continued my prognosis, the door to my room was thrown open, and two students ran in. One of them was a young blonde girl I had only ever seen in the hallyways- and the other was young Mr. Barr Jr. They both stopped and stared at me for a moment and I spoke, trying, as I always did around Mr. Barr, to keep my composure.

"Mr. Barr? I was not expecting you until later today. What brings you here this morning?"

The boy looked at his friend, then at me, as if coming up with a plausible excuse for stumbling into my classroom at such a time.

"Oh, yeah Doc. I was just hoping to find a quiet place to study with my friend, if that's okay."

He was lying. Many of the students assumed that because I wasn't particularly _trendy _that I was completely ignorant of anything besides the sciences. That wasn't true in the slightest, but there wasn't a lot of polite ways to prove it. Instead, I chose to let them live and work as they saw fit, and grimaced behind closed doors at their mistakes.

Such was my reaction the obvious fib that the boy had told me. I smiled brightly, nodding as I awkwardly brushed the hair out of my eyes. "But of course, Kevin! Feel free to come anytime. I'd be happy to assist you if needed, though I must warn you, it's been many years since I learned calculus."I laughed, knowing that I was actually pretty good at calculus, but he didn't need to know that. With my welcome they continued to the back row, both sitting quietly in the farthest corner from my desk. They probably assumed I could not hear them, or perhaps they assumed I wouldn't listen- either way, they were mistaken.

"What's with the hoodie, Kev?"

I almost scoffed. _He's not Kev, no matter how much he looks like him._

"Doesn't matter. Why were those guys following you?"

Now this sparked my interest. The young woman was being followed? Was she in danger? I quietly wondered if I should intervene and demand answers. But they continued on, answering some of my questions.

"They followed me all the way from the parking lot. They were laughing and whispering to each other. It freaked me out, man. I thought they were gonna jump me from behind or something."

_She said that so casually, _I thought, horrified. The young man sighed, as if he could not believe his luck.

"What? What's wrong?" the girl asked him, her voice frustrated and afraid.

"This is all my fault," he replied almost silently.

"Kev...what happened?"

There was a pause. Then a gasp.

"They didn't..." she murmured, the horror evident in her voice.

"It was an accident."

The girl stood and threw her fist down on the desk. "Bull shit!" she cried, and I couldn't help myself. While I was hoping to hear the entire conversation without them know I was listening, my instincts were working against me.

"Language, miss."

She paid me no mind, her wild blonde hair moving in small waves as she threw arms about, yelling at the boy still seated beside her.

"How long are you going to let this go on, Kevin?! When are you going to do something instead of just _sitting there _and letting them get to you?! When you're _dead?! _Huh? Is that what you want? Is that okay with you? Why can't you just- God-"

And at that moment the young man became his father, standing quickly with a pride that would not be underestimated and a glare as bright as his green eyes.

"Just _what, _Nazz? Ask em nicely? Say fucking _please?! _Hope they won't kill me and you in the process?! I'm not doing this because I enjoy this, thank you very much! I'm doing this for _you! _This was all for you! The only reason I haven't left or told or killed myself is because I couldn't leave you here alone, damnit! So stop trying to make me regret it!"

Then he ran out of the room.

And I knew.

_Oh Kev, if you're out there, please protect him._

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**We're getting close to the end! If you've read HBEL, you know what comes soon and I'm excited to let you in on it. **

**I do, however, have one more surprise up my sleeve. It's one of the scenes I've been dying to write. I'm excited!**

***hugs and kisses* **

**-wise**


	32. Chapter 32- Rescue

While over the years I had learned to accept and deter my panic attacks, there were a handful of times where I found myself in the clutches of the horror I had so wished to leave behind. They came too quickly to anticipate, and due to their confusing and powerful nature, I found myself almost helpless to their cold embrace as the pain and terror seized my mind and heart. They were few and far between, but they were just as powerful as they had been in my youth. Just as dangerous.

And I could do nothing to stop them.

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I stumbled through the dark brush, tripping over branches and hitting trees with my shoulders, my eyes shut and my head spinning. I had to get away from the horrible presence taking over. I had to escape, I had to make it leave me, I had to go, I had to go, I had to _run._

My chest tightened and I could barely breathe, my hair falling unceremoniously into my eyes and sweat dripping down my back. Despite the cold biting, _tearing_ at my fingertips my body felt hot, too tight, and I couldn't escape it. I tripped, feeling my face hit against a rock and somewhere far off, there was blood on my face. The dark liquid dripped into my eyes and I cried out, flailing to get up and run away from the horrible feeling. My eyes burned and my feet couldn't catch land as I fell and fell again, writhing and pulling my fingers through my hair, wanting to scream at the unbearable, suffocation in my chest. It was building up to destroy me, to eat me alive and I was so very alone.

"Ah! Nooooo I can't leave I can't!" I whimpered, trying to find purchase in the wet dirt to stand. My palms slid and my knees buckled, causing me to fall again. Before I hit the cold ground, however, something warm surrounded me, prodding fingers holding my arm and side. Startled, I struggled against the painful warmth, sobbing for it all to leave me. There was no reply. The silent kidnapping hands clutched me tightly, not allowing me to escape. I tried to kick out but found no purchase, making me all the more desperate to get away. I was lifted and my feet no longer touched the wet ground. My numb fingertips brushed against something flat and beating- the feeling of another heart beat terrifying my own.

"Don't! Don't! Help, Kev I can't let it go, I'm not able- I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to..."

"Hush," a voice commanded, and in the midst of my helplessness, I did. The darkness in my mind and chest began to ebb away, leaving me confused, exhausted and limp. Arms positioned me and carried me through the night, silent like a ghost. I dozed in and out of consciousness, something in the back of my mind aching to be heard, to warn me of...something. I wasn't sure what it was. After what seemed like days later, the arms lowered me to the ground, one arm propping my back up while the other disappeared, coming back with something cold and dripping. I flinched, not wanting whatever it was to touch me, but feeling to worn out to fight back. Rough hands wiped my face and head, so different than the warm liquid that dripped down my face before. The hands pushed my hair back and forced my eyes open, my foggy eyes meeting dark blue irises. The eyes squinted at me, looking for something. Satisfied, the man took my hands and dipped them in the cool liquid, rinsing them. The coolness alerted my senses, allowing me to get a better look of the person currently propping me up.

The young man was as pale as the moon, with long, muscular limbs. His face was sunken and he scowled naturally, as if the only emotion he ever felt was anger. Clinking dog tags hung around his neck lazily. He wore a dark leather jacket and part of me wanted to warn him he shouldn't allow the leather to get wet, lest he ruined it.

The part of him that truly stood out to me, however, was the white striped beanie atop his head. It was worn and dirty, but I'd recognize it anywhere. A wave of nostalgia hit me like the ocean tide and I sobbed, my shoulders shaking me with a grief I had long learned to forget. The boy did not react to my weeping, but simply finished what he was doing before shaking his hands off and picking me up again. I slumped against him submissively, knowing he was much stronger than me, so even if I tried, I could not fight back. While his demeanor was not friendly I sensed no ill will from him and allowed him to do what he would. I fought to keep my eyes open, my body suddenly aware of how cold it was outside. Panic attack now officially subsided, my exterior was racked with chills and my skin sported goosebumps beneath my now filthy work shirt.

The tall boy carried me to the edge of the woods before setting me on my feet, waiting until I was securely on my feet before letting me go.

"T-thank y-y-you," I shivered, not knowing how to respond to the kindness the silent boy was giving me. He frowned, not looking me in the eyes before closing his eyes and shaking his head, ripping off his leather jacket and handing it to me. I took it hesitantly and put it on, enjoying the warmth immediately. After a moment of awkward silence he looked up at me, the moonlight showing his features, showing his guilt and his sadness.

"I owe you no longer," he said slowly. The gentle timbre of his voice was unexpected. But I knew exactly what he meant. I nodded at him sadly, wishing I could offer more to the troubled young man. He shoved his hands in his pockets and turned away, stalking down the street. Little did I know that he lived quite a ways away, and now without a jacket, was stranded.

And as I made the short walk to my home, he did the unthinkable and knocked on a particular red head's door for shelter.


	33. Chapter 33- Dee?

**I moved and got a second job, okay? Give me a break plz and thnku.  
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I hurried down the hallway, a clipboard in one of my hands. I held my head as high as possible, trying not to show how hard my heart was beating. My bangs tickled my face as I went, my white coat fluttering around my thighs. I made the various twists and turns to where the nurses' station, finding a familiar jolly face stationed behind the main computer at the nurses' station. When the sound of my dress shoes approached she looked up, smiling tiredly at me. It was nearly 02:00, so I didn't blame her.

"Room 307," I prompted, looking at my chart to double check I had the number correctly. When she nodded, I took it as an incentive to keep talking.

"I would like to request that the half hour checks be under my own responsibility. I will be doing a comprehensive review of the patient as well. This particular patient is one I would like to monitor with as much isolation as possible."

She paused, looking a bit taken back. "Absolutely, Dr. I'm sure the techs will be pleased to hear it- we've had an unusual influx tonight and they're a little behind. What's so special about this patient?"

I sighed. "I know him. He's- well, he's not good with people, and I'd like to handle it on my own. That, and I think he needs as much consistency as possible, and I think a familiar face will help. Have you contacted his guardians?"

At this, the woman's face fell. "We have no contact information. His school gave us a home phone number and address, but the phone has not been picked up. We're sending social over to the house tomorrow to see if anyone is home, but we're assuming his parents are out of town. We're hoping we can access records of a cell phone somewhere, but we haven't had any luck."

"So he hasn't woken up?"

"No. When he does, will you ask him about the contact information?"

"I will."

"Thanks. Oh, and Charlotte? The tech with the red hair? She told me he has a visitor she couldn't get rid of. He was the one who found the patient and refuses to leave him. He was in need of some sort of assistance as well...lemme think...it must just have been some basic stuff, but because she was afraid he would go into shock she let him stay. Just watch out."

"Noted. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

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I stood in front of room 307, quickly going over the chart information before entering. Mr. Vincent was involved in a sort of fight, where two other classmates had beaten him, stabbed him a few times, then dumped his unconscious body into the school's swimming pool. Another student, who came a bit later, fought both of the suspects before diving into the pool and pulling Mr. Vincent out. The other student attempted CPR before a few other witnesses came and took over, calling the paramedics and giving proper Basic Life Support. When the paramedics arrived they found the boy unconscious, with what appeared to be severe blood loss. They administered CPR, an AED, and respiratory arrest therapy. It took a few minutes to get a response from him, and it was unclear if they could maintain his weak state of consciousness. They rushed him to the ER where he was put into a variety of therapies- a couple of blood transfusions, the setting of a couple fractures, and dozens of stitches. He had been pronounced stable over an hour ago, and given him a relatively sensitive ICU room on the third floor.

I sighed, closing my eyes a moment to let myself process. It wasn't the gore- I had never been bothered by the sight of gruesome things, and I had been shocked to understand that while in medical school, people with needle and blood phobias had actually gotten admitted. I had gone back to school to get my medical degree, a dream I never thought I would be able to pursue. I specialized in the recovery and rehabilitation of patients who frequented the ICU with possibly life threatening injuries- injuries I had become nearly an expert in recognizing and treating. My position at the hospital was a great way for me to vent and to focus on something other than myself. Teaching was far more enjoyable, but I found that when I had something stimulating in the late evening hours it didn't give me the option to overthink, or in any way pity my own situation.

Now, however, I found myself in the difficult position of not letting my personal bias get in the way of my work. Mr. Vincent, for whatever reason, was someone that I felt a particular need to protect. I had no right, no reason, and in the past, no way to do that. I had seen both his and Mr. Barr's situations become more and more entangled, and I had a feeling that I knew exactly who was with Mr. Vincent on the other side of the door. As much as it pained me to admit, there were some clear connections between the two young boys. One was angry, quiet, and, according to his permanent record, he had a tendency towards violence. The other, of course, was shy, exhausted and rather hopeless looking. Not that I hadn't seen the look before- but it was something a bit different than the pain I had experienced in my youth. While my afflictions seemed rather self contained, there was a shift in the way the other boy looked. Near the beginning of the year I had feared the very worst for the young boy, as he was both terrified and ashamed. As the year slipped by, however, things were starting to change. The amount of poorly hidden bruises and limped walking did not falter, but the young man himself seemed...happier. Not to the point where he had embraced his victimization, no, rather, it seemed he had found relief in something. Or someone.

Whatever the case it was nice to see him somewhat at peace, and I quietly cheered him from the sidelines. I tried to stay out of the situation as much as possible, but I also liked to remind the young boy he was not alone in his endeavors. I really hoped he had understood my intentions and not assumed I was just trying to be nosy.

The taller boy, on the other hand, had become more of an introvert. While he only spoke aloud in class when it was necessary before, as of recent I didn't seem him speak at all. He had always sulked- and I was beginning to think that was his natural state of being- but the more I began to see him the more I understood that there was an internal battle happening inside of him. He was not casually unhappy- no, no, there was a reason behind how miserable he seemed. I could only assume it was his own doing as I had come to understand that he was known for his bullying behaviors. Never once was he caught in the act of harming another, but by the skittish glances sent his way from other students it wasn't hard to put two and two together. As dark as his character seemed there was hope for him. There had to be. Only once had I decided that, and it was on a warm spring morning when I happened to see the tall boy walking beside none other than Mr. Barr himself. The young red head had been speaking animatedly, and quite frankly, unafraid (something I did not think possible for a companion of Mr. Vincent's) as they strolled down the hall. Mr Vincent had not looked particularly happy at the moment, but he also did not appear to be _unhappy. _There was a meek contentment I had previously thought unattainable of the dark haired teenager.

Of course, the incident went unnoticed by most but for me it stuck out, never wanting to leave the peripheral of my thoughts. I had, up until now, never truly understood their correspondence, and doubted I ever would.

But this I knew. Mr. Barr had not only fought off two other students, but had dived into the school's lap pool to save his fellow classmate, who was much bigger than he. Which means, at the very least, Mr. Barr cared enough to try and remedy a very broken situation.

What it meant for the two of them, I was not sure.

I steeled my thoughts and threw the door open, my stomach dropping at the sight of them.

Mr. Barr sat on a chair next to the bed, one hand clutched to his chest while the other lay softly in Mr. Vincent's. His face was mottled with bruises and jagged stitches, his hair sticking up at unnatural angles. His face was far too pale for my liking- making his freckles stick out like paint. His clothes looked damp and torn, and he was missing a shoe. Next to him, on the bed, lay a heavily bandaged young man, his face set in an exhausted scowl. His usually very unblemished skin was so torn and bruised it there were only tow things that I could identify him by- his dark curls and the circles around his eyes. Even his ever present dog tags were gone.

"Doc?" the young red head spat, sounding shocked and confused.

I nodded to both of them, letting the business part of me take over. "Why hello there, Mr. Barr, Mr. Vincent." I strode over to the raven haired boy and started to take his vitals, checking his medical history and the trend sheet of his previous vitals, noting that his vital signs had been steadily improving in the last couple hours.

"You're an ER doctor?" the freckled boy asked me, and I almost smirked.

"No, I am in the intensive recovery unit. If I were to be an ER doctor, I would have seen both of you when you came in...hours ago," I explained, checking my clipboard to see just when the boy's where admitted. "I knew both of you were here, of course, because of the chaos that ensued after school adjourned, but I did not think I would see you _here. _This particular hallway is saved for those who are under especially critical care." I looked over various sheets, the weight of the reality in front of me making me almost feel sick. "You've been through much more than I had anticipated. You are very lucky to be alive, Mr. Vincent, especially with all your limbs fully attached."

I could actually _see _Mr. Barr shudder.

_My bad. I should probably refrain from being too insensitive. _

"In any case, I am happy to say that you were given quite the miracle. It seems as if you suffered quite a bit of trauma, but the recovery looks promising. In fact, I would dare say you'll be out of here before the next week is up, assuming that you rest well and go through physical therapy. I will be watching over you for the next couple of days, then I will hand you over to my colleague, who specializes in muscle trauma, and he will help you get back on your feet. For now, I will give you both some time to rest. In the morning, we will give you a more detailed prognosis."

I finished my charting and left, leaning against the door. I was only beginning to piece together the strange situation the two young men had found themselves in. My mind betrayed me, causing flashbacks of my own hospital experience fly past my eyes. Bitter jealously ebbed at the corner of my mind, remembering just how alone I had been during those first few hours. I hadn't had anyone beside me. The worst part was that it was completely my fault. I had gotten to the point where I truly did not believe I was lovable. I had allowed myself to fall so far into the notion that I was worthless that I pushed out the only person who had never asked anything of me. The pain that I had endured had been so overwhelming I did not think I would ever recover.

I recovered, but I did so almost on my own.

And now it was too late.

I looked into the window of the room, seeing a small red head perched on the side of the bed, looking afraid, his shoulders shaking with grief. After a moment his taller companion pulled him to lay beside him, both of them looking horribly broken, afraid... and, despite the circumstances, so... _whole._

_What have you done?_

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**Y'all know what comes next.  
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I returned to the two younger boys periodically the next day, doing the work I had promised that I would do for the young Mr. Vincent. In the early morning I had found the two of them wrapped in each other's arms, fast asleep. I woke up Mr. Vincent to check on him and while I was doing so he tensed, looking up at me bashfully.

"Will I ever swim again?" he whispered, his eyebrows tilted in a desperate way, showing me a side of him I had not known before.

"I don't know," I replied, giving him a small smile. "How badly do you want to?"

He didn't look particularly convinced. And for a moment the small moments we had shared flooded my memory. I had the overwhelming feeling that yes, I knew this boy, and I knew I could not lie to him. "It will be a rather slow process of recovery. However, I believe you will be back to your athletic self before this time next year. Right now, however, you should be very grateful that you are alive," I admitted, knowing just how fragile life could be.

"Mr. Vincent, there are not many people who could have survived what you did. Do you know what that means?"

He didn't respond. I brushed a piece of hair out of my eyes and looked into his tired eyes. "It means you are strong. It also means," I shrugged towards the sleeping figure slightly, "that you have something, or _someone _to live for. And that, Mr. Vincent, is a very rare thing indeed."

To this the young man smiled, looking almost hopeful. Satisfied that I had reassured him I stood, writing the results of his vitals on his chart. "Well, I will have breakfast brought in soon for both of you. I fear that Mr. Barr will refuse to leave for some time. Might as well get him eating again."

With that, I excused myself out of the room, having a number of things to get done before the sun was high above the mountains. I made sure there was food sent to the boys' room and continued to check on the two of them throughout the day, not wanting to leave them to the care of anyone but myself. It was rather selfish, but at the moment my heart convinced me I did not care. Or, I cared too much I would have nothing else. Either way.

During one such visit I found young Mr. Vincent fast asleep, with a very bored looking Mr. Barr propped sitting backwards on a chair, staring off into space. As I had been entering the room, he had occasionally been asking me questions about the recovery process, the hospital, and my position within the ICU. I walked over to the sleeping swimmer and raised the borrowed shirt he was wearing, checking that there was no physical changes to his bandages than before. He was no longer bleeding, and I had sensed no growing infection, but I knew the skin around the wounds was incredibly sensitive due to the harsh chemicals in the pool water he had been found in.

"So, I know he's pretty beat up, but like, what exactly _happened _to make him like that?" a voice whispered, drawing my attention to the ginger's concerend expression. This was a question I had been anticipating, but one I hoped I would not have to answer.

"It seems that the people who attacked Mr. Vincent stabbed him in multiple places. This happens to be the worst of them. Based on the wound itself, I would suspect they were made with a pocket knife, as they aren't more than two inches deep. But this area was struck more than once. Perhaps six or seven times, actually. They aren't fatal wounds, and nothing major was hit, but I'm sure it was very painful."

"D'you think, after all of this, that he'll have nightmares?" Kevin asked, knowing that the boy was already plagued with sleeping problems because of his night terrors. I frowned, contemplating the answer.

"Those affected by emotional trauma often suffer from nightmares, unfortunately. Mr. Vincent may not remember everything that happened, because of the concussion he received, and the brain often recovers part of the memories in dreams. Most of the time, however, they do not last for very long. A month, maybe two at the very most," I explained calmly, remembering a seminar on emotional recovery some years ago that I had attended. Nightmares were a tricky subject, as they were highly dependent on the person, the circumstances, and the type of sleep said person was receiving. However, it was quite likely that the young man would have at least _some _night terrors given the fact that it had been a near death experience.

But I couldn't leave it at that. I myself had been plagued by dream like memories of my past and knew, that with time, all wounds heal. Even those we find hidden so deeply within ourselves that we cannot imagine a life without them. They would fade, would they not? For both the young man and his friends' sake I chose to believe that there was a happy ending for the situation in which we had all become a part of. If I could see it, than surely, the young Mr. Barr could as well. Couldn't he?

"Fear not, Mr. Barr. I am completely confident that he will recover, both physically and emotionally."

It seemed to work. Like I had previously come to understand, Kevin Jr never fully relaxed. Even in a state of joy he never lost a sense of apprehension- something like caution written in the creases of his lips and at the edges of his eyes. For now, however, he seemed content, rubbing his nose under his glasses and sighing in relief.

"Let's hope s-"

**_"Dee?"_**

.

And there it was.

.

Without warning I was curled up on a carpet floor, tears sticking to my face. I was riding the back of a motorcycle, squinting against the wind. I was lying against someone on the couch surrounded by people I didn't know. I was huddled in a jacket that wasn't mine on the edge of a field. I was backed up against a locker with my eyes shut as I tried to remember what I was so _damn_ afraid of-

I was sitting on the edge of a balcony with a foot dangling in the air.

It was all the same voice. It was all the same longing, the shock, the wave of nostalgia that made me want to laugh and cry, the same warmth of the summer sun and despite the pain it was the same, same, same.

And he was calling for me, the same way.

This time I didn't turn away.

As I rounded on him the first thing I noticed was just how scared he looked. Sometimes it occurred to me that he didn't know if I had lived or not, and seeing him now I could tell he had assumed the worst. He was everything I had ever known him to be, now with just a dash of something like wisdom or confidence that I knew had come from time and experience. Old habits die hard- I reached up to push my hair out of my eyes and mustered all the courage I had to speak without letting my emotions run wild.

"Salutations, Kevin."

A small voice behind me sounded extremely confused when he asked "y'all know each other?"

"Why yes, Mr. Barr. Kev- your father and I went to school together," I answered automatically, never moving my eyes from the clear green pupils staring back at me. Not a moment later (though an eternity longer than I would have hoped), the man I had never planned to see again had wrapped me in his arms, and I found I was not as familiar with it as I had once been. But as I took a deep breath, I recognized the smell of his cologne and with it came a shuddering breath. I held him back, so overwhelmed with joy and confusion I didn't know what to say.

"I thought I'd never see you again," he admitted to me quietly, and I wanted to assure him I didn't think we would ever cross paths again, but I figured now was not the time to express such intent.

"Well, here I am," I offered rather lamely, chocking on the lump in my throat. My hand splayed on his back near his shoulder blades, and my fingers could feel the tension between them, like he'd spent his adult life shrugging away his problems, or perhaps he still sat with a hand under his chin. It was a small something I had not before noticed about him- and something I swore to never forget. I closed my eyes and took him in... his larger, firm frame, the feeling if his hair against my cheek (his beloved hat no longer present), the wrinkles around his eyes that suggested he laughed hard and often, the frailty of his voice...and the strength of the arms around me.

Some things never do change.

The man released me to slide his hands down my arms and attach them to my wrists, both of us examining one another. He was still very much the young boy I had known...but I could see that he had experienced much in our time apart. Which, of course, assumed that we were together again. As much as I ached to know him again, I wondered if things could return to what they had been before. We had both grown more than I had thought possible. Were we still capable?

My questionable hopes were dashed as his face eclipsed into disappointment. "Wait," he said, raising an eyebrow, "you had to know that Junior was my son. We have the same name, for crying out loud. Why didn't you say anything?"

He had me there.

As much as I was wanted to forgo explanations and simply beg for his forgiveness, I knew that he deserved to hear it all, and that this was definitely not the place to discuss such things. I really doubted his son knew anything of me, and as such, I wanted to keep private whatever it was about our story that he had not been willing to share. It was then that something quite fundamental dawned on me- Kev, my Kevin, must have someone in his life. A very particular type of someone. His son was most assuredly his biological offspring, which meant I could assume that some very important events must have occurred at least once for his posterity to be born.

Which was both puzzling and almost heartbreaking. I had absolutely no right to have an opinion on the subject whatsoever, and if I did, it was twenty years too late to express them now. Of course, it only made sense that my beloved old friend would have moved on in his life, as I had... But the reality of our separation only seemed more real and more tragic as I knew there were several milestones in his life that I had chosen not to be a part of. Those were moments I could never get back. A voice at the back of my mind reminded me that until recently, I could have only hindered the happiness of those around me, for things I still could not fully control. I doubted he would ever understand that.

"I, well, I thought it would be better..." I started, my face heating up in humiliation as I attempted to shortly explain a very long story to the man I cherished so dearly without giving away too much to the other people in the room. It wasn't going over well.

Luckily for me, Kev still possessed the talent of always knowing what to say and he nodded at me, not letting go of my wrists.

"Junior?" he called, grabbing to attention of his young son, who was gently helping his friend wake up.

"Yeah dad?"

"Dee and I are going to go catch up, okay? It'll only be a few minutes."

His son shrugged nonchalantly. "Sure. I'll just be here with Edd."

I was then pulled out of the room quickly, and taken down the hall to an abandoned nurses' station where my friend stopped, shaking his head a bit, grinning.

"I just...sorry. I just can't believe it," he confided in a hushed tone, staring down at his hands that were still connected to my lower arms. I knew there was much I needed to say- and while I had every intention of expressing such emotions, it didn't seem particularly appropriate at the time. Instead, however, as I was feeling incredibly brave and somewhat desperate, I shook his hands from my wrists and slid my fingers into mine, trying to keep from tearing up in front of him.

"I missed you," I whispered. He laughed wetly, nodding and swinging our hands a little.

"Yeah," he chocked, looking down, "yeah. Same," the man confessed. His grip tightened, and his face became a bit distraught, something that made me think of our last conversation together.

"Promise you're back for good?" he requested, his voice half serious and half joking, his brows turned up in amused sadness. It was him- it was the same boy I had learned to love.

And I could not deny him again.

"I promise."

.

.

.

.


	34. Chapter 34- Chat

After the authorities and the news broadcasters had all stopped coming around, I was once again left to care for the young Mr. Vincent. I could tell the attention was seriously draining him, but unless his young companion was around, he refused to sleep. He would sit up as much as he dared, scowling at the ceiling, as if daring the chipped paint to let his eyes droop. I tried to coax him into getting some rest but he would shrug me off, as if he was not tired. I saw him every thirty minutes- I knew for a fact that he was exhausted.

"Do you suffer from nightmares, Mr. Vincent?" I asked one morning, remembering that his friend had hinted at a past of night terrors. The young man glared, his dog tags (which had finally been returned to him) clenched in his fist. He would not look in my direction.

"It does not matter."

I put down my things and took the seat next to him, placing a soft hand onto his shoulder.

"Ah, but it matters to me," I assured, forcing him to look at me. His facade fell for a moment, his vulnerability showing through the cracks. He tried to keep his head held high, but it seemed to bring him pain. His eyebrows arched and he let out a shaky breath, his red eyes searching mine almost desperately.

"Why?"

It didn't take a genius to understand what he meant. I had been given the news, of course. Mr. Vincent was much more than a bully. He had physically and mentally assaulted young Mr. Barr for years. It was amazing that the two of them had survived, especially as close as they were, something I had yet to understand. Perhaps it was objectively reasonable that everyone hate Mr. Vincent for what he did. It was wrong, it was cruel, and it was wholly unnecessary.

"Because," I started, putting my free hand on his cheek, "you are capable of much more. And one day, I hope, you will believe it."

His lip quivered. I had a feeling he didn't show this side of himself often. The icy hardness of his face ebbed away to reveal a frightened child, one who could not see a light at the end of the tunnel. In his mind, I knew, there was no hope for him nor his situation. He could not see the goodness he held.

"I am not," he whispered, clinging to my hand and shaking. "I am not."

"But you will be," I promised earnestly. "You haven't drown just yet."

.

When Kevin heard the full story, of course, he wanted to speak with the suspect himself. As far as I knew he had never met Mr. Vincent. Due to the seriousness of the situation, I was asked to stay in the room for the safety of both men. I had planned to stay just in case, but I only hoped I could be of any use to them. Before my friend came I decided to change the dressings on my patients many wounds. He never complained, but I was sure he hated it. If nothing else, he was humiliated at having to be tended to. I could understand that, so I tried to be quick and curt, checking quickly for infections. After being satisfied I put the new dressing on, securing it with plastic medical tape.

Just as I was finishing, Kevin and his son walked in, the younger of the two giving me a pleading look. I lowered Mr. Vincent's shirt and stood, taking a step back to get out of the way. The young ginger approached the bed, placing a hand near but not on his friend, giving him a silent apology before facing his father.

"Dad, Edd. Edd, Dad."

Both the swimmer and the man beside me were very tense, for different reasons. Sensing the long forgotten fury in my old friend I put a hand on his shoulder, holding him back. He let out a breath, gritting his teeth.

"So you're the one who's behind all of this," he accused quietly. While I did not fear him, I did fear for the boy lying down across from us. He truly had no defense- and nowhere to run.

"Junior, give us a minute to talk," Kevin's father instructed to his son, making the freckled boy wince.

"But dad, I-"

Kevin cut him off. "Go." With one last worried glance, the young man walked out, leaving the three of us in the room together. It wasn't ten second before my friend threw his hands out, his face red with rage.

"How DARE you?!" he cried, looking almost murderous. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Why the fuck would you ever even TOUCH my kid?! Huh? What the actual fuck?!"

At this the young man closed his eyes, turning his head away. It looked as if he were doing everything in his power to disappear from the situation. In his position, nothing would help. There was no way for him to remedy what had happened, and I knew it. Kevin was far too angry to listen. His emotions were wild, loud, and understandable.

"What did he ever do to you?! Huh? He's nice, and he's smart, and he puts everyone fucking first and he cares way too much and- and you beat the SHIT out of him! Why?! Why the fuck would you do that to him?! That kid didn't do nothin' to deserve this shit! You hear me?!" Kevin threw his hand in the air, turning away and sighing, running his hands through his hair, trying to contain himself. After a moment he let out a humorless laugh, dropping his shoulders.

"Yknow, the told me that you didn't even throw most a' the punches. They said you let up. But ya know what?" he asked, rounding back to face the teenager. "They said you started it, and then did NOTHING. You let those sons of bitches do whatever the hell they wanted to im' and you stood around doing _nothing."_

"That is not true."

Both Kevin and I started at the noise, facing the boy on the bed. He was shaking, looking extremely tense. He seemed at war with himself, but after a moment, he spoke again, his voice quiet and rough.

"It- it is not true."

His words sparked a memory within my head and I nodded. "He's right, Kevin. In a way. When the violence became more frequent, Mr. Vincent was the one your son would call afterwards. He would tend to the boy's ailments. He was the one who made the cast, if I recall correctly," I offered, clearing my throat. "And, as you know, it was Mr. Vincent who...well, tried to end things."

The man scoffed, unimpressed. "Yeah, and look how well that turned out. Can dish it but can't take it worth shit."

At this I stepped forward, scowling. He had crossed a line. "He nearly died, Kevin. What he did was brave."

"What does that matter?" the man asked, annoyed. "What difference does it make? That one act somehow makes up for all of this?"

"No," came the meek reply. Kevin sighed angrily, staring down at the young man who was now staring back, his eyes tired and somewhat hopeless. "That does not make up for it," he agreed.

"You're damn right it doesn't."

"So what, then?" I asked, exasperated. "What is to become of them? Kevin, your son cares for him. Does that mean nothing to you?"

"Ha!" the man said, rolling his eyes. "You don't deserve him."

"True."

"-That is quite enough, Mr. Vincent. Do not put yourself down like that."

"What the hell? Whose side are you on?"

"The side where people are given second chances, Kevin!"

"He had plenty of fucking chances! And he didn't do anything with it!"

"He stood up to them! We are here for that very reason!" I exclaimed, throwing out a hand to the young man. "Can you not see what he gave up to change this situation?"

"He got himself in this situation!"

"And now he is trying to get _out_ of it!" I cried. Kevin looked away from me.

"I-" the boy started, looking down at his hands. "I am not asking for your forgiveness," he stuttered, shutting his eyes. "But I am so, so sorry."

A few moments passed, and no one dared even breathe. I stared at the man next to me, whose face changed from anger, to frustration to sadness. I knew what that meant, even after all these years. I knew what it all equated to. He shut his eyes, shaking his head in defeat. I put a hand on his arm, giving him a sympathetic smile. He sighed, looking up at me before turning towards the hospital bed with an exhausted expression. He walked towards the young man, kneeling next to the bed. The teenager tensed, trying his best not to look afraid while simultaneously trying to get as far away from him as possible.

"You are not worthy of my son," he said matter-of-factly. "But no one would be."

With that, he left.


	35. Chapter 35- Retribution

There was a lot for us to discuss, obviously. And it took nearly three hours and two cups of coffee to get through it all. I told him of the recovery, of the doctor, and of the family I had learned to be a part of. I told him about my teaching and then, my doctorate, which led me to working in the hospital. I rehearsed the moment I realized I had his son in my class, and all the moments his son and I had shared since. I laughed when I scolded him because his son had the foulest language, and teared up when I admitted to hearing the conversation between his son and the friend he had.

"I can only guess at the amount of emotional trauma your son has had to endure over the last few years," I choked out, shaking my head. "But I will say this. He was getting better. Not physically, mind you, but he seemed of a happier nature this year. As much as you may hate to hear it, I do think it has something to do with Mr. Vincent."

At this, Kevin scoffed. "Yeah, well, the kid's pretty damn determined to stick 'round him. I don't get it." He laughed, rubbing his eyes. "He's just like 'is Mom like that. Doesn't listen to nobody."

The subject of Kevin's partner (wife? girlfriend?) was something I had purposely avoided. I had not seen or heard much of her, but I knew she existed. I almost didn't want to know. The foolish part of me still wanted to believe I was the center of Kev's attraction, even though I knew it improbable at this point.

"Is that so?" I asked, deciding it was a better time than ever to get the conversation over with. I really was curious.

"Yeah. He wouldn't know it, though. He was eight when she up and left. Heck, I thought it'd be sooner." With my horrified expression he laughed, shaking his head slightly. "She didn't even like me. At least, I don't think she did. But hey, for accidentally getting pregnant at a party she tried damn hard. Eight years is nothin' to sneeze at. At the end, she had enough so I took the kid. I mean, he's _my _kid, no matter who or what he came out of." Kevin's eyes hardened, and he shrugged. "What a bitch, leaving that poor kid like that. We're better off without 'er, but still. The kid didn't deserve it."

"I'm so sorry," I whispered sadly. How selfish I was, only thinking of myself. My friend had gone through parenthood almost alone, all because someone was not responsible enough. To think, he had been given the burden to carry on his own...

"I could've done it so much better. Just look at the kid. He's got problems up to his eyeballs and he's best friends with the world's biggest bully. Ah, and the kid thinks I don't even _like _him cuz he's not into sports," he exclaimed quietly, his eyes red. "The boy actually thinks I'm _disappointed _in him because someone used 'im like their personal fucking punching bag. Godamnit."

Seeing his distress I moved closer, putting an arm around his shoulders. I wasn't sure what to say- if I should say anything. I knew that I could not change what had happened- nor did I think he wanted to talk about the bullying. No, despite what he was saying, I knew this was about his own insecurities.

"Your son is incredibly intelligent. He's one of the top students. He's also very, very kind. He's so selfless, in fact, I think he pushes people away to keep them safe. He's funny, and brave, and even if he doesn't play on the teams you did, he is very much like you. You have the same smile, and the same courage. You have taught him so well. You should be very proud."

Kevin took my hand in his and I smiled. Oh how I had missed this. "If anyone can get through this, it's the Barr men."

.

I had grown incredibly fond of young Mr. Vincent, and I'd like to think he had become accustomed to me as well. He was a quiet, rather angry person when first approached, and it could be quite off putting, but underneath the rather intimidating exterior he was...pleasant. Not only did I come to learn of his rather strong protectiveness of Kevin's son, but he was also very interested in things I was interested in! Which was to say he had a particular love of the sciences- mainly in psychology and physiology. When I visited him (which was often), I always tried to have a factoid or case study to bring up. At first it annoyed him- he didn't appreciate being baited for conversation- but after a while he became so bored he went along with it, always taking the opposing side just to keep the rhetoric going. His companion once walked in on a rather intense conversation on the truth about organic labeling and became quite defensive, thinking we were in an argument. It made me laugh as I quickly assured him there were no hard feelings between us.

After that, I would almost dare say we were something of acquaintances.

Which is why, after giving it a lot of thought, I decided to try and contact his parents myself. He had been unable to give the hospital anything other than a travel company and a departure date. It took some serious digging (which included calling every airline I could think of), but I was able to pinpoint the small village in Indonesia where Mr. Vincent's parents had last been seen.

"Hello?" came a crisp, curt women's voice.

"Hello, is this Mrs. Vincent?"

"It is. With whom am I speaking?"

"My name is Dr. Marion- I am a doctor in the ICU of Dickson Regional Hospital. I'm calling in regards to your son."

"Oh?" she asked, seemingly unconcerned.

"Your son was involved in an act of violence about a week ago. He was beaten and thrown in a pool, where he nearly drowned. We were able to bring him back to consciousness, but he suffered both physical and mental trauma. However, the recovery looks promising. I will be happy to go over the details when you arrive to bring him home."

A moment of silence and a sigh. "I see. Hold on one moment, if you would." I heard a shifting, making me assume she put her hand over the receiver. Not thirty seconds later she was back, her voice as flat and uninterested as before.

"How much longer will he be in the hospital?"

"I'm predicting four days or so. After that, he will need physical therapy for about six months, and in worst case scenario, he will need a metal plate put in-"

"Yes, that's all very good," the cut off, growing more impatient. "We will send over the necessary paperwork to give him permission to leave the hospital, and the boy knows where the billing information is."

I stuttered, taken back. "You're not coming to see him?"

Another condescending sigh. "I don't really suppose that's any of your business, doctor. We trust he is in your _oh so capable _hands. Is there anything else we should be informed of?"

It took me a moment to recover, feeling both horrified, surprised and terribly offended. "No," I said quietly. "No, there isn't."

"Very well."

She hung up.

.

.

Mr. Vincent was released a few days later. He had almost no belongings, save for the clothes on his back and a deck of cards Kevin's son had given him. It was extremely hard for him to walk, and it caused him a lot of pain to move- mostly because of his broken ribs and puncture wounds. However, stone faced he stood, his face going a shade paler as he stumbled, leaning on his companion for support. Kevin offered to give him a ride home, something I'm sure his son begged him to do. I watched them leave, my heart aching. When I had asked the young man about leaving earlier that morning he had simply shrugged.

I knew what that meant.

Later that day I met my dear Kevin at a little espresso shop downtown.

After receiving my steaming latte I sat down, crossing my ankles and leaning across the booth to get Kevin's attention. He quirked an eyebrow.

"I called Mr. Vincent's parents about getting him released from the hospital. They are halfway across the world right now, and they have absolutely no intention of coming back."

Kevin's expression changed. His eyes darkened a bit. "Why not? Do they not have the cash to fly back?"

"I doubt it. It was a voluntary study about disease carrying mosquitoes. They're both highly acclaimed research scientists. Money is not the issue."

"Are they mad at him for bein' such a dick?" he spat, his defenses back up.

"I didn't even get to that part. All they know is that their son was severely harmed and they couldn't have cared less. Honestly, I've never heard anyone more level headed about their child being in the ICU in my career." I shook my head, lowering my voice. "I asked him the last time he'd seen them."

"What? A month or something-"

"Three years. They haven't been home for _three years_ Kevin." I let out a breathy sigh. "He's been severely neglected at best. They wouldn't even refer to him by his name. They didn't even call him their son! For all I know, they don't even care if he had lived or died. That's how casual the conversation was. His mother even cut me off, because she couldn't be bothered to hear about her son's recovery process."

"Wow," Kevin said, looking lost. "No wonder the kid's screwed up."

"Indeed," I agreed. "They sent over the signatures, so I had to discharge him, but I didn't want to. I know he's lived on his for this long, but given his injuries, I fear he will hurt himself while healing. He is handicapped at the moment, and he has no one to look after him. I had no reason _not _to discharge him, though. No medical reason, that is. And as much as I dislike his parents, the hospital bill will already be...staggering. I'm so torn."

"Couldn't you send him to a halfway house or somethin'? Maybe get child services involved?"

"For what reason?" I asked, frowning. "So he can go through the legal process just to be shoved into a foster home where he will be just as misunderstood? And that's only if they can get everything done before he turns eighteen, which is only months away. It wouldn't be worth it. I wouldn't send him anywhere he wouldn't want to go- I can't, really- and I know he will have no interest in getting anyone involved."

I put my hands on my face. "Oh, you should have seen his face this morning. The poor boy was absolutely terrified. He may have not expressed it verbatim, but I could tell."

"D'you really think he's in trouble?"

"I...," I put my hands down on the table, staring at my palms. "I fear he will be worse off on his own, whether by accident...or not." I didn't want to say it. Really, truly, I didn't. Self harm was not something I took lightly. Suicide...even more so. And I wouldn't have ever brought it up again with Kevin. Not if he didn't ask, that is. I didn't know how he felt about all of it. I know I was still a little horrified about what the past held, and I could only imagine how he handled what happened. He never got closure, something I both felt pride and embarrassment over. It was all in the past, however. This was the present, and, without proper precaution, it could be the young man's future.

I wanted to throw up just thinking about it.

"He has done some very, very foolish things. He knows that. In fact, that is mostly why I am worried. Because he truly does understand the weight of his misdoings. Your son's care of him may be the only thing keeping him from letting it consume him."

"Wouldn't that be fair, though?" Kevin pondered bashfully, stirring the drink in his hand.

"His heart has stopped once already. That, to me, was retribution enough."

.

.

Mr. Vincent was invited into the Barr family residence not two hours later.

.

.

.

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.


	36. Chapter 36- You're Not Alone Anymore

As surprising as it may have sounded, it wasn't hard for me to adjust to the new set of circumstances. It was a very, very welcome change for me, in fact. Not only was I able to take a break from the hospital to help tutor young Mr. Vincent (as he was expelled), I also got the opportunity to rekindle my friendship with Kev. We started out with coffee breaks in the morning by ourselves, and had warm meals with the boys at night. I learned that Kev could cook quite well, despite being incredibly messy in the kitchen- something I both adored and despised. It grew to late night tutoring sessions, long walks around the neighborhood, board games on the weekends, and quiet heart to hearts on the back porch. After a few months it was almost as if we were a kind of family, the four of us- though only two of us were related by blood.

When Mr. Barr graduated and Mr. Vincent received his diploma through an online program, we celebrated by going bowling where I discovered a few incredible things, namely: the Barr men were _astronomically_ terrible at bowling, Mr. Vincent pretended to be bad for his companion's benefit (though with a limp and cast he could have beaten us all), and sadly enough, I found I was only mediocre at aiming. However, after two hours of strange techniques and far too many gutter balls, we called it a night. We went back to the house and put on a movie, it being some action film released earlier that year, I think. It wasn't twenty minutes into the movie that I fell asleep, my knees pulled up to my chest, my arm linked to the man next to me and my head resting on a hoodie clad shoulder.

It was the first night of many that I spent at the Barr residence.

Perhaps at that time it was too early to predict the relationship Kev and I would have, but I could sense that we were in for something special. We could hardly separate from one another at that point anyway, and we both knew it. It became official while on a walk one summer evening, when I noticed Kev couldn't keep the grin off his face as he walked, shaking his head.

"What?" I asked, assuming it was something funny his son had said earlier. "What are you thinking of?"

"It just keeps hitting me, yknow?"

"What does?"

He swung our hands a little, contemplating his answer. "I got you back- after all this time, I mean. Years, even. I assumed you were either dead or far away. I didn't think we'd ever see each other again, let alone..._ together. _It's amazing, to tell you the truth. Way cool," he said, glancing at me from the side of his eyes. "Way cool."

While he meant his words to sound happy and grateful, for me, they were bittersweet. The only reason he had to fear our separation was because of me. I was the one who drove him away- drove him so far he held no hope for us. I suppose, that in the moment, I held no hope for us either. I held no hope for him, nor us, and especially none for my myself. But my fears caused him pain...years of wondering and perhaps even missing me that I could not take back or repair. I had done him wrong, and I knew that we both suffered because of it.

Sensing my thoughts, Kev sobered, looking thoughtful. He let out a nervous laugh, holding onto my hand tightly. "Can I ask you something?"

I looked at him, and seeing his longing, nostalgic expression, I knew what was coming. "Yes, you may."

"I was wondered...after that night, after you woke up..." he shrugged helplessly, clearing his throat. "Why didn't you want to see me anymore? What...what did I do _wrong?"_

"Oh Kev," I let out shakily, shutting my eyes as they started to burn. "You don't understand," I choked out, stopping and turning to face him, holding out my free hand for him to take. A couple of tears threatened to spill out as I clenched his hands in mine, desperately wishing I knew the best way to explain to him just how much _right h_e had done. How much good he had done for me and how I would never be able to repay him. "I didn't want you there- I think I _needed _you there. I was so, so scared and alone and I wanted nothing more than to just have you beside me. Truly, there was not a day, nor a _moment_ where I did not ache to have you with me. I thought that if anyone could help me or bring me comfort...it was you." My frail voice broke and a tear fell, followed by another and another.

"But that was just the problem, wasn't it? I couldn't have you. Not in the way I thought I needed. I could not ask you to be my savior. Not then, not now. I couldn't- rather, I_ wouldn't _keep you from everything you were capable of. I couldn't let you go. But I did. I didn't think I had any other choice. And I am so, so sorry."

I laughed wetly, the horrible memories being overtaken by the relief of the present. "But I am also so grateful. Because now I have you, and you have your son, and we have Mr. Vincent. I truly cannot imagine a happier ending than this."

At this, Kev gave me a nervous smile, searching my eyes with eagerness. "Guess that means you're stuck with me for the long run, huh?"

I could hardly imagine, that after all these years, someone would still want for me, and with the adoration he so clearly held in his apprehensive grin. Knowing that, while we were far from perfect, but still so very much perfect for one another, gave me a sort of hope that the younger version of me could have believed existed in this world. I had no dreams of fairy tales, but the thought of living the rest of my life arm in arm with the one person I could ever claim loved me just as much as I loved them, gave me butterflies.

As I looked at him, it was almost like seeing him in his wholeness for the first time. I grinned at his laugh lines, nodding. Overcome with my absolute gratitude and adoration for the man I could now claimed I loved, I leaned forward and kissed him, our hands still clasped at our sides. He was only surprised for a moment before he reciprocated happily, before pulling back and beaming as if he had just seen the sun for the first time in years.

"I can't wait," was all he could say.

I couldn't have agreed more.

.

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After the boys left for college, I moved in, making the warm house the Barr-Marion residence. Kev snored and I was far too particular about silverware placement, but all in all we were as happy as could be. No one who crossed our paths doubted the nature of our relationship- though we wore no wedding rings and did not share the same last name. Kev was as nurturing and open minded as I had always known him to be. I rarely felt fear in his presence, nor did he in mine. The sun seemed to have finally come out, and I basked happily in the warmth it brought. Even the nights where the panic attacks reared their ugly head were filled with a sort of joy. For I was never alone in those moments. Even if I could not hardly feel up from down, I could always count on the feeling of warm fingers in my hair and a voice in my ear, promising that everything would be okay.

We traveled to Disneyland with the boys, and soon after they were engaged. We helped plan the wedding, and when the day arrived, we were both father of the groom, whether by blood or by bond. We saw the two young men wed, overwhelmed by pride and joy. Right before they left for their honeymoon, all four of us gathered in a group hug, and I can honestly say that one moment was the most at peace I have ever experienced. We had all come together through so much, whether at our own hands or not. We experienced so many different kinds of pain in so many ways. The healing was still an ongoing process. It was more than miraculous that we had found one another at such a crucial time in one another's life- and I was honored that I was able to be a part of it all.

Grandchildren came, as did uncles, aunts, cousins, and enough stories to fill up a library. I lived out my days loving and being loved by those closest to me. My career, my past, my fears... every waking moment of misery that I had endured, the loneliness, the pain, the hopelessness...it was all so, so _worth it. _I did not think myself capable of any happiness, but to witness the life and the peace that I got after it all ended, I would have done it all again.

I cannot imagine a life without my family, my boys, my amazing grandchildren, and especially without Kev. Every morning I awake with him breathing softly I know that no matter what happens we'll be okay. I know that he has me, and I have him. Now, when I think of the future, I think only of the happiness I get from being free of all the chains that held me back.

Now, when I stand on cliff edges I don't stick my legs out. I stick my arms out and I breathe it in.

Because on that night, the only true goodbye...

Was the goodbye to my _ANXIETY. _

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**THE END.**

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**A/N: I would like to thank everyone who ever encouraged me to write. Over the last eighteen months, I have -with your help- written almost 200,000 words, which have been viewed over 70,000 times and reviewed over 600 times.  
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**Thank you. Thank you so much. **

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**Anxiety isn't about a 'love-conquers-all' kind of plot. It is, with HBEL, a story of second, third, and two hundredth chances. It's a story about not giving up even when there is nothing to hope for. It is a story about finding what it most important despite the challenges. In ways it is my story- in ways it is yours. **

**It is a story about knowing that things will be okay. **

**Things will be okay.**

**-wiseyetharmless**


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